Women In White

Women in White
(The counterpart to Men in Black)

I was planning my next bus trip when the doorbell rang. It was the woman in white. I had seen her many times on that Progressive auto insurance TV commercial. The one who talks to people about switching over to Progressive Insurance. The one with the collagen-stuffed lips. She stood at the door in her white uniform somewhat embarrassed while holding a bouquet of flowers.

“Are you Mel?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve have been so impressed with all the writing you are doing and I just had to meet you.”

Surprised and caught off guard, I didn’t know how to respond. She introduced herself as Mollie. “Here, I bought these flowers for you. I just had to meet you. I hope you got a new car.”

As I thanked her, she broke out into the following song:

“Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with your limousine.
Let me hear you whisper, that you’ll buy the gasoline.
Keep those headlights burning and your hands upon the wheel.
Let me call you sweetheart. I’m in love with your automobile.”

I told her I was sorry but I still didn’t have a new one yet. She pouted with those botoxed-enhanced lips that reminded me of a swimming goldfish. “Oh, that’s OK!” she chirped. “We can handle that. We’ll just get you a car loan.”

I don’t know where it came from, my muse or wherever, but suddenly remembering my old car, I broke out in song.

“Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.
Let me hear you rattle as you used to do.
Keep your headlights burning and your taillights too.
Let me call you Lizzie, I’m in debt for you.”

Unfortunately, she misunderstood and got into a huff because she thought I was calling her Lizzie. When we got that straightened out, she asked how I was getting around.

“I’m trying to use Connecticut Transit. But they don’t make it easy,” I answered.

“Oh! We insure them. They get unusually low rates.”

“Why is that?”

“Apparently their utilization rate is low. They don’t seem to drive the busses very much.”