You know the ones of which I speak?
Those Big Red Buttons that say “Do Not Push”.
They should make them another colour.
They can’t help it.
They have to push them.
I think it is a testosterone thing.
The cat can do this all day.
And the dogs never learn.
At the supermarket I try to hang back from the teller.
The teller has a Big Red Button.
I think it is to announce a hold-up or some dire emergency.
Anyway pressing it makes alarm bells go off and every till in the supermarket to shut down.
Then the flying squad arrives.
I walk calmly to the exit denying all knowledge of the excited male trailing in my wake.
Speaking of wakes…
Great Aunt Mamie stepped on a cloud to join the choir invisible.
As the only representatives of my mother in the United Kingdom, we went to the funeral.
The entire day was surreal.
My mother’s relatives, whom I have never met, eyed me with some suspicion and kept referring to me as my mother’s son.
I quite understand why my mother does not keep tabs on them.
The husband and I took a pew far far away from them and about halfway back.
On the side of the pew was a Big Red Button.
As the sermon droned on, our attention wavered.
The Husband’s eye fell upon the Big Red Button.
He tried. He really did. But he had to.
It’s a primordial, biological impulse.
We watched in abject horror as the coffin began to sink into the depths of the crematoria.
He pressed it frantically in the hopes that it might reverse the process.
No-one else seemed to notice that Aunty Mamie had departed the building.
What were they thinking, put a Big Red Button halfway up the chapel anyway?
For all those who need to push the Big Red Button I’ve included this link to the Big Red Button Appreciation Page.