“Call your collective-farm mother — we’ll give the guests something to laugh at!” my mother-in-law snapped. Mom came. And my mother-in-law ended up sobbing with shame in the restroom.
“Call your village bumpkin over. Let’s give people something to laugh at!” Eleonora Genrikhovna adjusted the diamond brooch on the lapel of her jacket and measured me with a contemptuous look. “Respectable people from the city will be gathering at my anniversary celebration. They need contrast. Let them see what hopeless backwater my son pulled […]
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