Passing on the Genes - Monday Writing Essentials

Greg's Prompt:

This week's challenge: write a humor essay (or story)

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More than three billion plus genes are passed from parents to child. Between my two parents, they had many good genes. I could have received my mom's carefree outgoing personality, organizational prowess, housekeeping abilities, small size, or her cute button nose. I could have received my dad's brains, fastidious budgeting talents, small frame, or his long, regal Irish nose. Instead, they gave me the worst of both. They gave me their two noses put together.

Mom gave away her size-two wedding dress to the neighbor's daughter as a Christmas present when I was in seventh grade. I was too big for it. I weighed too much for it in second grade, but she had hope. I fit in her shoes and dresses for the early seventh grade dances. She wore a size 16 by then, like most normal American women. I passed her height and weight before that Thanksgiving. But her nose was small with lovely round nostrils. I passed the width of her nose then too. I swear noses continue to grow like ears. At least, my glasses can't slide off. (She gave me her nearsightedness, too.)

I've seen my Dad eat a dozen pairs of deep-fried frog legs and six large ears of corn smothered in butter, when I was young, and yet he remained 155 pounds at five foot ten inches tall, until he hit 40. He now is forced to eat a mere 3000 calories or less per day to keep his weight down to a hefty 170. I didn't get that gene either. But his nose is quite the long handsome thing. I passed his long about the same time I passed his height - ninth grade. I don't really need a wide nose to keep my glasses on. I put my glasses on every morning, when I wake up. There aren't enough hours in the day to slide down that far.

I know what you're thinking, "It can't be that big." I've knocked cowboy hats off in Texas, while I stood in Philadelphia. Jimmy Durante stood next to me to look normal. NASA used my profile for the cones on the space shuttles. Elephants give me their best mating call, when I visit the zoo. When I have the sniffles, scientists use me to make vacuums. Some Texan was rude when I knocked off his cowboy hat, so I traveled to Texas to find him. I tripped. The Grand Canyon is my face plant.

My Dad gave me one good gene. I can't smell anything. Have you ever smelled an elephant enclosure? I haven't.

(To be honest, I must admit - I was kidding about our sense of smell.)