Put the blame on Chickadee

My mother is in California, visiting her sister's family.  It's the first time she's met my cousin's new husband, Derek.

Derek is a country boy, and my very West Coast relations have been a bit befuddled by some of his more backward ways.  His vegetables of choice are corn and potatoes, and his hair has never known the taint of "product."  The general consensus seems to be that my cousin could have done better.  In pure jest - as I have many a backward way myself - I began referring to the poor fellow as "Durwood," ala the disapproving mother-in-law, Endora in "Bewitched."  My mother was shocked at first - but the name caught on.  It's not like we called him Durwood to his face.

Last night, she called me from the beach house.  She was giggly and frantic.  "You'll never guess what just happened," she whispered.  "Oh, it was awful.  I'm so embarrassed."

Her tone wasn't right for something truly humiliating to have happened, but clearly she was upset.  "Let me guess," I said, trying to ease her distress.  "You called Derek 'Durwood?'"

There was silence on the line.  Finally, she said, "I blame you entirely." 

Comments

[nabbalicious]

Haha, uh-oh. Did he catch on?

I used to work with a guy I nicknamed Hobo Stank (because he reeked, obviously), and it caught on so well that I was afraid that one day someone (probably me) was going to call him that to his face.