|A Specific Kind of Middle-Aged Woman|
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The Shriek of the Entitled Suburban Bitch
by Maura Stone
This summer my brain cleaves in half from high-pitched squeals emanating from a flock of camel-nosed women. They look alike despite age and shapes and possess the same pretentious attitude that usually accommodates those who have never accomplished a thing in life other than fogging up a mirror.
I never noticed them before, but then again, I mostly keep to myself, far away from seasonal second home owners. I don’t have anything in common with those women as: (1) I worked my entire life; (2) never married and never had kids; and (3) have better things to do than clacking and clucking like chickens without a head.
Abiding by my neurotologist’s suggestion, I now leave the house and try to be around people, only because I’m on special drugs. I suffer from hyperacusis, a rare neurological deafness disease where sound hurts my ears. “You must try to acclimate a bit to sound,” she recommended.
No one ever warned me about the caws from these crows. Their simulated canned laughter blew the top off my head, triggering an immediate attack, painful to say the least.
“Can you lower the caterwauling?” I requested, clutching my head in both hands. I sat in a quiet local cafe along with other patrons enjoying the ambience when the coven entered causing not only the patrons to flee like a flock of geese, but the real birds outside dropped from the trees.
One of them shrieked back in high C, “I don’t like your attitude,” and proceeded to snap fingers at the waitstaff and cafe owner, barking orders like she was royalty.
After witnessing such inappropriate behavior, I would rather gnaw off my arm than to be anything like these people. One of my friends who knows them said, “I saw those women in Florida. They act even worse there.”
So, Florida is off the list.
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I can’t believe I forgot to write about this! Thank you, Forrest!