Mirror, mirror. What if your mirror started talking to you? What might the mirror say
The new lightbulb made a huge difference. Unfortunately. Every wrinkle, gaping pore and that childhood chicken pox scar, all visible.
“Shoot!” I cried. “A zit at my age. Where did that come from?”
An answering snort came from behind the mirror. “Where do you think? Did you really need those three pieces of chocolate cake and bottle of soda? The way you eat, it’s a surprise you don’t look like a pizza.”
I stepped out of the bathroom and peered into the next room. No one was there.
Back in front of the mirror, I poked at the pimple.
“Leave it alone. You want it to get infected?”
Again, no one was in the next room.
“Honey,” I heard from the bathroom. “You think only Evil Queens in Disney movies have talking mirrors?”
I peered at the silvered piece of glass. All I saw was me and a giant zit.
“Most of us talk,” the mirror said.
I tapped the glass and said, “This must be some kind of joke.”
“Talking mirrors are as real as that giant red Mount Vesuvius wannabe on your forehead.”
Taking a step back, I gave my head a shake. Just my luck I’d get the mirror with attitude.
“So, does that mean I can ask you who the fairest in all the land is?” I asked.
“It ain’t you honey. You don’t even crack the top one-hundred.”
“That’s a little harsh,” I replied.
“Is it?” the mirror snapped. “Wait until you hear what your bathroom scale has to say.”
Marion, such a wonderful story, full of laughter, and sarcasm. I loved it.