You Make My Parents Wear Shoe Covers? I'm Divorcing You

On my thirtieth birthday, my husband and his mother invited a crowd of relatives and friends over for dinner.

My parents made the trip too, more than a thousand miles from their village in the countryside.

But before they'd even stepped through the door, my mother-in-law's disgust was already ringing out.

"Don't just walk in! Your parents have been sitting on that bus for hours. Who knows how filthy they are?"

"Honestly, that whiff of poverty pollutes the whole apartment."

Garry Butler hurried to the shoe cabinet and dug out two pairs of slippers.