I am worried about Charlie…

I am a bit of a worrier.  A Nervous Nelly.  Fretting Fanny…..fusspot…. worrywart….  chowder head.  In short, I taught Chicken Little the whole deal about the sky.   I come from a long, long line of worriers.  My Mom is a worrier.  About everything.  I think my Dad might worry every now and again.  He used to say things like “Safety is no accident.”  and “Save your money and buy good whiskey.”  The latter doesn’t have much to do with worries, but he really did say that quite a bit.

My great-great-grandfather Peter Wourms was a worrier.  He worried about the crops, the chickens, the weather, the horses, and numerous other things.  He constantly fretted over whether or not he was pronouncing words correctly, like “Dalmatian” and “Lederhosen”  (He was a German Immigrant so the Lederhosen thing should have been cool.  But one time he said it at Fengold’s Grocery, on a Tuesday morning,  and a woman slapped him in the face.”)

Now here’s the deal.  As mentioned, I can certainly worry, from time to time.  Not as much as I used to…. but I DO worry.  Like today I was chugging through town and looked down at me feet.  Low and behold, I see this.  Charles Fenaoui’s name tag.  I think to myself……“Oh.  I sure do hope nothing has happened to Mr. Fenaoui……..  Holy smokes.  I wonder if he is all right.  I mean… ……..his “Hello. My Name Is” badge is just laying there…..in the street, for crying out loud.  Oh gosh.  I hope he didn’t get kidnapped, or abducted by aliens, or anything like that.  Oh Polly calm down.  The dude is fine……… BUT what if he ISN’T?” And on and on it goes.  “Okay, even if Chuck is okay, how the hell is anyone going to know who he is?  He lost his gall-dang name badge.”

I Googled him.  Hard to spell a guy with every stinking vowel in his last name…. which is suspicious I might add.  I found Charles M Fenaoui on Facebook, but he only has 34 friends….  many of which don’t seem like they would be real people.  I’m smelling trouble again, I’ll tell you…. trouble.  “What if he got hit by a horse carriage and has lost his memory?  He only has 34 Facebook friends, many of which are made up & none of which will be looking for him.   And he’s lost his name tag!  His wallet is probably gone too.  Oh this is bad….. this is very, very grim.  Someone should have told him that safety is no accident…..  what if he was hopped up on good whiskey?……..”

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