My mom flew home from Dallas today. She was doing the nice grandmotherly thing and visiting my sister's two adorable kids. About the time I expected her to be home I got a weird text message from my dad:
"Mom landed on time but was detained by TSA because they found a .45 caliber shell in her purse."
WHAT?! My dad suffers from sarcasm but this is waaay out of line.
My mind is a twitter as I picture my poor mom trying to explain random ammunition in her purse. And then I get the whole story...
IT'S HER BULLET! SHE'S CARRYING STRAY BULLETS IN HER PURSE! IT'S JUST ROLLING AROUND IN HER PURSE LIKE A TUBE OF LIPSTICK!
My hand can't hit my forehead enough times to make this story make any sense. Have I woken up in a parallel universe where my own mother is now the new Bonnie without Clyde?
Airport+mom+bullet=SECURITY! Probably the most exciting thing the security agent's seen since his $5 footlong. All the while my mom is just standing there at the end of the conveyor belt, probably filing her nails and patiently waiting for her WEAPON to pass inspection.
"Well, I thought I'd gotten them all out but I guess I missed one," she says. I say that about tampons, not bullets.
"I had it in my new Coach purse." BAAAARGH. Sadly Coach's spring line has become a dead giveaway for felons since it failed to include a holster or bullet case.
"It's for when I go to West Virgina next week." This I can understand, I've seen Deliverance.
A) I didn't know my mother even owned a gun.
B) I don't know why my mother even owns a gun
C) I don't know IF my mother owns a gun. Maybe it's just the bullets.
I tell you what, ever since all the kids moved out and she started riding that motorcycle, things have gotten out of hand, out of hand.
