I had no idea midgets were everywhere in the streets of New York City. At least that was the story our state’s attorney was telling me this morning. He stepped on one, he said.
He went to New York City last week for a little get-away. Being a nice guy, he took his mom with him. He said, “I hadn’t even walked on the streets of New York City before I stepped on a midget and turned my ankle.” Uh, say what? The visual of him stepping on a midget was just amazing. (I might add here that I refer to small people as just that, small or little people. That may be politically incorrect as well, but I’m pretty sure they would rather not be referred to as midgets. I may be wrong.)
I said, “A midget?” And he says, “Yes. A midget. I told Mom I hadn’t even walked the streets of New York City and I had already stepped on a midget.”
He didn’t seem to be too concerned about the little person. I suppose since he had twisted his ankle and was apparently in pain.
I just couldn’t wrap my head around him stepping on a midget. So once again, I asked, “A midget?” And he says, “Yes, they’re everywhere?”
Whoa! Hold up! Was there some kind of convention of little people going on? I was now visualizing little people so thick in the streets of NYC that a person could hardly walk for them.
Incredulous, I repeated, “Midgets?!??!”
That’s when he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep from guffawing out loud since we were in the courtroom with some minor court proceedings going on. Which is, of course, the very reason for the mix-up. In our conscientious effort to be quiet as we were talking about New York City, he was mouthing pigeons, and I was mouthing midgets. Just as he realized I was saying midgets, I realized he was saying pigeons!
And that’s when I had to jump up and exit the courtroom by the back door before I broke into belly laughing. I laughed so hard in the clerk’s office that I cried.
So go stand in front of the mirror and mouth pigeons and then mouth midgets. See what I mean?