A cowboy stopped by the coffee shop yesterday and asked what brought me to Montana. I told him about how I enlisted in the Navy where I met my husband who’s from Montana. I went into a little more detail but he cut me off halfway and said “You’re a Squid?”
But I heard… “You’re a Squib?”
Dazed, I tried to process his question. Why would he call me a squib? While it’s true that I have no magical ability, I wasn’t born into a Wizarding family either. Ridiculous! Squibs are make-believe! He must be referring to my Potter-Themed Halloween party. But that doesn’t make sense either. He didn’t go to the party and has no idea that I organized it. But still… he did just call me a Squib.
He noticed the strain on my face as I tried to come up with a suitable answer and he said “That’s what we called sailors in the Army.” What does that have to do with Harry Potter? Then it hit me… Squid not Squib!
Ha ha! Well, I haven’t heard that term for quite sometime. He apologized as if he offended me. I continued to stare off into space concentrating on remembering a time that someone called me a squid. Then I thought I should speak to the poor fellow since I’d given him about thirty seconds of silence since his comment. “I’ve been called worse” I said.
Did you know that if someone yelled “attention on deck” that I would jump up out of my seat faster than you can say Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes? Other than that… those little Naval details have been forgotten.
Hey, I don't want this picture. What gives?