The No Name Waitress

I had brunch this morning at a trendy new Bistro ("Anniska's")
found in the center square of our Living Room.

"Hi. May I take your order?", the perkey Home-Depot aproned gal who dressed herself this morning asked me.

When I asked the pint-sized waitress what her name was, she paused for a moment
and mournfully replied:

"I do not have a name. You see, when I was born my mommy
and daddy could not find any name they liked, so they decided not
to give me a name. I have no name."

I found it tragic that such a pretty little face had such a tragic backstory.
Oh well, at least she knows how to serve a mean (wooden) sandwhich.
(I have no idea where  she gets this flair for the dramatic!)

For those of you who have read this, and perhaps wondered if
the lost bulbs were ever found, as of 10:16am, EST, they were.

Hidden under a bevy of slippers in the back of their mistress's closet,
 the missing bulbs were found huddled together, safe and sound.


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