Flash Fiction (a Hundred Words Exactly) #72: The Paul Lynde Comedy Hour (May 20, 1978)

My Portuguese-American mom loved the British monarchy due to what she called its “glamour.”

The day before the special, she told me it was the four hundred and forty-second anniversary of Anne Boleyn’s execution by beheading.

“How fucking glamorous,” I said.

Mom just sighed, having given up long ago on disciplining me, unlike Aunt Inez, who really wasn’t too violent by our family’s standards.

Anyway, I almost watched the special, since it featured the cranky old guy from M*A*S*H, one of the few TV actors I could tolerate.  But Lynde sucked.  I just knew it.  Why start watching him now?

Copyright © 2020 by David V. Matthews

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