Mother's day was upon us this Sunday and I made a trip up to Bellingham to visit the folks. After giving mom her gifts we decided to go out to brunch. The place was packed as men of all ages are not prone to cooking a meal for their women. Some females may complain about this, but given the culinary skills my father and I posses my mother is thankful we stay out of the kitchen as much as possible. Apparently she's not impressed by condensed soup and meat cooked on a George Foreman Grill.
The brunch was exceptional and the family enjoyed the tasty grub. While my dad was feeding his face with food that fits into his specialized diet mom and I went back to the buffet table to top off the meal with a delicious pastry. We picked out our treat and I followed her back to our table.
We had to mozie by a bunch of tables when I noticed some fat old man checking her out. His eyes looked her up and down while he grinned like an estranged uncle your family doesn't talk about. I stopped dead in my tracks and stared at him trying to communicate via body language that I will skull fuck him with my fork if he doesn't keep his eyes off my mom. He then realized I was glaring at him. His eyes got big and he went back to filling his face with food that hopefully will ensure his impending cardiac arrest.
I caught up with mom as she was heading up the stairs to our table.
"Did you see that old fat bastard checking you out?" I said.
"No," she giggled. "Was he really doing that."
"Pig fucker sure was."
"Now Erik," she said feigning shock. "Don't talk that way in front of your mother."
"Sorry," I said. "But he's in for an ass whoopin."
She laughed again. We sat at the table and mom informed dad she was being gawked at by some old guy. Dad shook his head and stated he couldn't figure why my mother was "geezer bait". Apparently as they get older my father has had to insure the 70+ guys keep their eyes off her. They have a good sense of humor about it, better than I really.
"All women become like their mothers. That is their tragedy. No man does. That's his." - Oscar Wilde