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Speak Up MAG
It was a pleasant spring day not unlike most pleasant spring days. Ester Babblbroth was carelessly frolicking in her garden.
If only, she thought, I had a prince charming to carry me off.
She pretended to dance with a man three feet taller than she. In her mind, an old Spanish folk melody was playing. If only ..., she thought.
"Sometimes dreams come true," said a soft voice. "What? Who's there?" responded Ester, startled. Silence answered.
"I am Prince Andrew Silence, milady."
"Oh, yes. I bet you are. I don't supposed you carry around any credentials."
"Yeah, you heard me. Credentials. You can't just come strolling into my garden and expect me to believe you're nobility just because you say you are. So how 'bout it? Don't you carry a rider's license under that panoply of yours? I'll take a credit card. I'll take all major credit cards. In fact, I'll settle for seeing an extremely large cash sum."
Silence pulled out twenty thousand pounds.
"That's it? Any successful British drug dealer carries around that much. C'mon, let's see some mucho mula."
Heartbroken, Silence left. When he arrived at his castle in England, he decided to end his life.
"Lessworth," he commanded his butler, "I want you to encase me in gold and send me to the home of an American woman. Then she will know I am wealthy, but too late." He broke down in tears.
His loyal butler carried out Silence's request. When the statue arrived at Ester's house, she stared at it for a long time, then had to sit down.
"My goodness!" she exclaimed, "I could make big money selling this thing."
So Silence would have been better off not approaching her and not saying anything at all. Thus, my friends, the awful expression ...
SILENCE IS GOLDEN. 1