After a long stint of being out of town, a worn out line crew stopped off at a local bar for one last celebration of a job well done. It was a different time then, mid 1960's at the latest. During this glorious time of phone-less freedom, a company truck had been "made" in the parking lot and the boys were busted.
A stay-at-home Linewife found out what the crew was up to and was miffed her husband had made a stop before returning home to her after his being gone for weeks. During his absence she had been solely caring for their three children, and that day had been helping out a neighbor by watching after 4 more. Without so much as wiping one nose she piled 7 seat-beltless, raggedy kids into a red 1957 station wagon and headed to the bar.
She parked in the back of the building and coached all of the children to pretend her Lineman was their father. His back was to them, and the smoky set for her staged disfunction was more than she could have ever hoped for. Seven kids entered the bar single file as she opened the door and hid in the bright sunlight behind it.
14 dirty, untied sneakers shuffled across the dark sticky floor and made their way to the greased, lanky blue jeans atop the barstool. 7 kids, of pigments and ages impossible to be birthed by the same woman swarmed the Lineman. With phony tears and blinking eyes, they tugged at his legs:
"Please, Daddy come home! We're hungry..."
The day-drinking bar patrons gasped and stared while the place fell silent with blurred criticism.
The awkwardness was soon interrupted by the crew. Knowing the Lineman's wife & actual family situation, they roared hysterically with laughter.
The Lineman and his wife have been married for 60+ years and are still very much in love. One of those snot-nosed kids was my mother.