A Walk With Bob Hope

I strolled around the empty theatre with Bob Hope.

He smiled kindly and crooned, “Hi, Honey.”

I approached him and we began to walk,

comfortably,

behind the back row toward the wall.

“I saw you and Cagney tap dancing on a table last night.”

“I remember. He tried to out-dance me.”

“He did.” I smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “You’re funny.”

“You look healthy.”

“I’m feeling good, he said.

He reached the end of the row and descended toward the stage.

“Except this brain tumor.”

He tapped his crown. “They’re going to take it out.”

“I had a friend who had brain surgery,” I remarked.

We turned the corner in front of the first row and ambled back across the theatre.

“In fact, this is her daughter, Emily.” I gestured to the brunette teen sitting in the center aisle.

We reached her and he squatted to her level.

“Emily, this is Mr. Bob Hope.”

“Hi, Honey,” he crooned.

“Bob, this is Emily. Her mother had surgery because her brain was bleeding.”

“Are you her friend?” she asked Bob, pointing to me.

“You bet,” he replied, a dazzling smile.

“His only one,” I added.

“You’re funny,” he said.

Copyright © 2010 Penny L Kjelgaard