My Card, Sir

I went to breakfast this morning and had to listen to a true blowhard sitting nearby, going on and on about his war experiences in Korea many years ago. Just like too many ex-servicemen who sit around American Legions or VFW’s re-living their war stories over endless beers or cocktails. Actually, re-living experiences they never had except in their imaginations. This guy had a captive audience of two or three who were required to sit and listen to his bs. I carry a card in my billfold just for such an occasion. I took it out and was about to give it to him, when I decided against it. It would only have made a scene, and I don’t need any scenes just now. But oh, how I’d have loved to see his face when he read it. Maybe next time when I see him, or hear him, I’ll actually let him have it. Next time. Here’s the card.