Curmudgeons Anonymous

Curmudgeons Anonymous was meeting again tonight, and I couldn't decide whether to go or not. What a bunch of surly, inconsiderate - boobaphonts - it was my mother's word. Talk about a tongue twister and larynx bruiser. I set my face in a vise and tightened it. It was my mother's look, the one she reserved for rowdy teens. Now I might use it for any old occasion and everyday use. I think Mom would have been proud of me, dear old Mom. How I missed her blunt stainless steel wrench! So useful in setting a mood and motivating dear ol' dad. Does she look down on me from the wall (where I hung her stuffed cadaver) and weep? Only time will tell, and I have so little time to get to the meeting! Usually I would call a cab, but tonight I would drive my old clunker and then I could rag on it and the automobile industry when I got there. Always plan your orneriness, my mother used to say. These meetings haven't been going well for me, what with my improving mood and all. They act like they want a success, but when it comes right down to it the only company they love is misery. I could suppress the occasional smile, but that twinkle in my eyes comes and goes as it pleases. And then there's the time when I suggested bowling and pizza. They all browbeat me viciously to the floor and scathed me with their malcontent, pointing at the sign on the door. Its been three weeks now since my last Mudgeon but I pretend otherwise for Mom's sake. And then it hit me - I didn't want to go back to my old ways. I was free! I took Mom down from the wall and put her in storage.