And what in my magical inbox should appear, but Christine Feehan, and eight tiny reindeer of rational prose. Ok, no reindeer, but prose? Got it:
The story as I know it:
The camera did in fact belong to me, not my daughter. Heather and I are friends and have been for many years. I’m old and body part photos don’t really work so well for me as a joke and I was concerned that perhaps someone else might post the pictures on the internet. No, my son never saw the pictures, the ones he saw were of our home so he knew the camera was mine. He knew the camera was mine and never would have left them there for me to see as he knows what an old fashioned woman I am. The girls apologized and that should have ended it. The police were never called. There were no tears by anyone I know of. I’m pretty certain all the fictional accounts are far better than anything either Heather or I could have written but it was fun to read them all.
No tears, no police, no drama? ARMPITS?! That’s it? Funny how rational grownup behavior is so very entertaining. Thanks, ma’am!
Now, do we need to have an armpit photography contest?