My wife has a Dyson

My Wife Has a Dyson,..The Ball Kind

"Don't the two girls look so adorable in their sparkly princess dresses?" my wife states more than asks as she falls all over the living room trying to get that best picture ever of her two fancy fairy beauties. Two and a half and three and a half foot tall fairies with no ability to fly but have the gift of leaving the thousands of magic sparkles (I say magic because they can't stick on their dress but have the ability to stick to everything else) wherever they go.
My so called loving family members have fairy-ized my 2 and 5 yr. old granddaughters, 90% of the home, 100% of the car and all exposed body parts to this sparkly plight. Crowned, wand waving, fancy dressed princess trailing disco dust with every step.
Oh and this isn't their first matching disco dust bombing fancy fairy frocks! People have been hating me for years. Well meaning, God fearing, tax paying good citizens have singled me out and have seemingly wanted to embarrass me at least three times.
At first I didn't know they were doing it. I'd go about my life in my normal routines and not even know. But then I'd clue in with my superior spidy senses that the girl at Starbucks lingered her stare at my forehead just a nano second too long. The nice Asian lady at the dry cleaners purposely wiping her left cheek had seemed to want me to do the same. And then the opened mouth pirate laugh from the guys at work as I walked past with my glittered 'Ba- donkey- donk' gave clue that something was amuck.
I was ablaze with disco glitter dust. Those doggone angelic grandkids had glitter bombed me! My hair with its many magic follicles was only detoured by the four spotlights of attention grabbing glitter that now shared my face. The back of my navy blue jacket was bejeweled with fairy sparkles. And my matching slacks with a circular ring at the back of my swimsuit area looked like I had perhaps unknowingly squished a fairy by sitting on her.
Oh and these shining spotlights don't just wipe off with a swipe from the back of hand, they stick! Like a warm wet sneeze to a screen door! I have to use the Dyson to power suck what's on me and then back track with the vacuum every where they went and sat. Now gone are the four spotlights on my face only to be replaced by four red crop circles.
That was my ignorance the first time. The second time I was well aware the effect fairy dresses had on my dignity, and had a plan. I followed my two little dancing fairies with the wife's ball vacuum everywhere they went. I was like the third dancing fairy only much bigger, without a fancy frock and had the ability to suck up disco dust without the need of a vacuum bag.
It didn't help one bit! My face must be a magnet to glitter! Glitter that waits till your out in public when the light is just right so that it pops forth louder than an oozing pimple at a high school dance. Me, a 58 yr. old grandpa to four grandkids looking like a disco drag queen the day after. Thank-you very much you bag-less Dyson and you third world sweat shops that make fairy dresses affordable to middle classed sparkly faced Canadians like me!
But even with all this I was still to be embarrassed to an even greater degree at the doctors office. How was I to know that one of the little dears had gone potty while I had my back to them vacuuming the couch. The doctor could hardly remain upright because of a vertical challenging fit of laughter. He and the nurse, whom he had asked if it would be okay if she could observe a certain procedure, had me to bend over. At first he had held it together, but soon gave in to the hilarity one expects from a star spangled moon. And him calling himself a professional . He had to use naked me for support to stop from falling over . At least the nurse had some decorum. She, with tweezers, took a sample of he glitter and put it in a little glass jar like it was the problem I had come to see the laughing doctor about.
And what is this stuff made from? It lasts forever! I swear every chair,couch,car seat to ancient log in the forest that has ever had a faux fairy fancy frock pass it, still has some of this shiny curse to adult dignity on or in it. I think this ageless magic dust is now made from all the computer parts we send over to India to be re-cycled. The precious metals are separated then the rest is ground up for fairy dress sparkle. And I don't even think they paint it to give it eye catching bling. They just remove the paint, it's that's already there. Under the colour of your computer is solid glitter, cause they know they're going to crush them in a couple of years to make sparkle dust! Every computer we send them as e-waste comes back in sparkles, 15 trashed computers to a dress.
"Okay girls one more picture of the two of you on grandpas lap!"
"NO!" too late, I've been bedazzled. A full frontal attack! Oh well, get out the Dyson the one they advertise as the ball kind.

Bob Niles