The Case of the Disappearing Lipstick

*organ music swells and then fades*

It was another dull, gray day, in the city of never ending meds. Rochester, where doctors and hotel proprietors share equal billing in the hearts of the afflicted.

The morning had started in the usual way: dim light filtering through the blinds, groggy awakening and really, really bad breath.

All the expected activities took place. A shower. Making the bed. Breakfast. It promised to be an ordinary clinic day, filled with appointments and tests.

As usual, I went down to warm up the car, an act made much easier since the choke had been fixed. This left me with just enough time to apply makeup while the little Toyota performed it's morning ablution.

I looked in my trusty blue makeup bag, the one I'd gotten free from a Goodwill bin. As was my habit, I methodically placed each item on the counter. "Mascara, Concealer, (can't have enough of that) face powder, rouge, perfume, (can replace deodorant in a pinch)........" *sounds of frantic rifling and gasps* "WHERE'S MY LIPSTICK!" "IT'S GONE!!" *loud organ music*

Lipstick. That feminine necessity that can cover up tell-tale chocolate lip stains, double as a pen for official document signing, and repel ornery little boys. No mother should be without it.

Luckily, I always keep a backup, just for these sorts of emergencies. The backup being an old tube where the lipstick is completely flat. It's the kind of tube, where if I tried to use it conventionally, I could wind up with large circular indentations all over los labios. If, however, I dab the end of my finger into the leftovers, it is still possible to apply enough color to make a passable smoochy mark on the mirror.

(Women have been doing this for years. They have been using up almost unusable lipstick, and doing it with a smile on their faces. Women are still waiting for the credit due them, for starting this whole recycling racket, and just generally making the world a better place)

So, all was well for the rest of that day. But, imagine my surprise, when not two days later, I could no longer find my backup lipstick! Yes, it was the same old mystery, only, more mys-te-ri-ous. *REALLY loud organ music*

What to do? Calling 911 seemed a little unreasonable. But buying another lipstick was not. This time I went all out. Extra long, complete with Global Positioning System.

And that's the way it is, in the city of masks and medicos. Will we ever know what became of those unfortunate cosmetics? *sigh* I just don't know. But, somewhere, somewhere, there are two small cylinders, looking for a home.

I can only hope they find an owner with complimentary coloring.

*organ music fades out*

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