Here’s Your Roses…

Hello Readers,

This is my Dad’s story. This is my history. I have heard these stories so many times I joke I could tell them better than him.

So we’re going to test it.


Here’s Your Roses- They’re Dead!

I had just been married to Amy for a year or so, and Valentines Day rolled around. So, what did I do?

What I thought any new husband should do.

I ordered a dozen red roses. However, what I did next was not the smart thing to do.

I left them in my car, because I didn’t want the guys at work to make fun of me. I rolled the windows up and left them on the seat. Now, this would have all been fine and well if it hadn’t been a burning hot day.

But it was.

After a long day of working, I got in my car, preparing to drive home and present my wonderful wife with a dozen red roses. Then I happened to glance over and see what had happened to them while I was working.

Turns out, leaving them in a hot car in any season is a bad idea. Who knew?

They were as dead as dead can be, wilted and brown, looking nothing like the wonderful bouquet I had envisioned. They were also pretty darn expensive, so my money and my pride had both taken a turn for the worst.

I drove home, getting madder and madder with every stoplight I passed. Finally, I got home, and by then I was so mad I had a scowl to rival my old gym teacher’s.

I opened my car door, grabbed the dead roses and marched up into my house.

I strode in and threw the roses on the couch, the scowl growing deeper on my face.

“Here’s your roses! They’re DEAD!”

“What… what does this mean!?” Was the response from my startled wife.

Amy started sobbing, and it took about fifteen minutes for both of us to calm down.

We laugh about it now.


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