Not even a one Mississippi
Every morning in carpool, I read. Most mornings. When it's quiet. Just NPR, another rider and the driver. Today, not even the moody, heart-wrenching story of a Holocaust survivor could penetrate the two motor-mouths in the front seat. Obviously, these were friends riding into the city together, enjoying a nice chat. I was stunned by their ability to fill every second with the sound of their voices. Not even a one Mississippi could squeeze itself between their words. Chatty Cathy's plastic mandible would be left gaping by their too-early-in-the-morning gab fest. Topics included: the benefits of window tinting, cremains and cremains delivery, real estate, marriage and heroin overdose. Ladies, I am duly impressed.
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