Want More Catsup?

You want more catsup? Here is more catsup. In the years 1963, 64, and 65 I was stationed at NAS Lakehurst, NJ. Our office manager some of the time was First Class O. First Class O. was an unaggressive, soft spoken, polite kind of guy. However, his wife Lucy looked like a weathered hard labor kind of person. She was loud, had no manners, and down to earth unpretentious. When First Class had duty overnight it meant a night on the town for Lucy. She made a impression on me one time, I think it was a New Years Eve we went bar hopping. The first bar we walked in the bartender ordered her out. She promptly picked up a pool ball off the pool table and said, “that is no way to speak to a fucking lady!” and threw the pool ball of a stained glass window, breaking it. This night I am talking about tho, 1st Class O was on duty and Lucy had a dinner party. She invited me and Lash from the office and two married couples. Lash was bragging about the fine spaghetti sauce he had preerected and Lucy begged Lash to make it for the dinner. I’ll skip the details, but after we sat down and started eating, a boorish guest asked Lucy if she had any catsup. I never seen Lash that mad. He looked at me and trembled. He later told me that was an insult to be proud of your sauce and someone asks for catsup. I kidded him about the catsup for years.