spoon. No one paid attention.
“People! People!” he shouted. Everyone at our table and the three tables beside us stopped talking and stared at him.
“Like I said, we’ll take turns talking about ourselves. Mabel, you go first.” With that, he sat down. I guess if you have to listen to life stories week after week, it gets boring and a person might tend to be on the grumpy side.
I’m not sure when he said we were going to do this so he caught me by surprise. At least by being the first one to speak, I didn’t have time to get too nervous but my knees were a little shaky.
“My name is Mabel Wickles. (I realized afterwards that if any of them had forgotten my name all they had to do was look at my nametag.) I’ve lived my whole life in a small town called Parson’s Cove. I live alone except for seven cats.” Someone at the next table whispered, “awww, poor darlin’” very loudly. I turned, looked the woman in the eye, and said, “That doesn’t mean for one second that I’m lonely. I have some wonderful friends. In fact, my best friend, Flori Flanders, was planning on coming with me. It just happened, however, that her daughter decided to give birth to her third or fourth child so Flori stayed home.”
Someone asked a question. Who was it? Grace. That’s who it was. Now, what was it she asked? My brain almost hurt from concentrating so hard.
“What’s Parson’s Cove like? It sounds so quaint.”
That was it. That’s what she’d asked. I said, “It’s beautiful. About a hundred years ago, homesteaders built the town right beside a lake. We have quite a few tourists in the summer who rent cottages and houses in the area. In fact, the house right behind mine is a rental. Actually, last summer no one wanted to rent it because of the murder.” I got everyone’s attention when I said that. It was Grace who said, “There was a murder?” Of course, then I had to tell the story how I’d seen two people removing a body. I tried not to sound too self-important so I told them in my most humble way how without me, the case would never have been solved. Everyone gasped when I said the killer kidnapped me but I’d managed to escape. Out of all of them, Grace seemed the most interested in my story.
Now, could I remember what each person said? It isn’t that easy when your brain cells are degenerating at the same speed as your eyesight.
Sally stood up next. When she stood up, her perfume wafted across the table. Perhaps, ‘propelled’ was a better verb. I was sitting sort of kiddy-corner to her and it was all I could do to keep from gasping for air. I remember what she wore that day because she reminded me of Flori. She was wearing this dazzling blue-green outfit. Those happen to be Flori’s favorite colors (along with bright orange). The only difference was that Flori’s clothes flowed outward from the neck down and Sally’s didn’t flow at all. They clung. The neckline was on the low side and her ample breasts seemed ready to pop right over the top. That, of course, is not Flori. Flori is very prim and proper when it comes to things like that.
I missed most of Sally’s speech, simply because she mumbled through her swollen lips. I do remember she said that she’d tried out for the movies and would’ve been a big star except for some reason - which I couldn’t make out. She spoke of being a ballerina and I overheard Andrea whisper to Grace that she was probably an exotic dancer. I was more inclined to think of pole dancing. Anyway, she really didn’t have much to say. She’d lived in quite a few states but didn’t say exactly where she was from. One thing she did make sure we knew was that she was happily divorced again and was on the quest for someone new. After saying that, she threw Ralph a ‘look’ and then, Mr. Hatcher. Ralph grinned and turned pink but Mr. Hatcher didn’t even glance her
“People! People!” he shouted. Everyone at our table and the three tables beside us stopped talking and stared at him.
“Like I said, we’ll take turns talking about ourselves. Mabel, you go first.” With that, he sat down. I guess if you have to listen to life stories week after week, it gets boring and a person might tend to be on the grumpy side.
I’m not sure when he said we were going to do this so he caught me by surprise. At least by being the first one to speak, I didn’t have time to get too nervous but my knees were a little shaky.
“My name is Mabel Wickles. (I realized afterwards that if any of them had forgotten my name all they had to do was look at my nametag.) I’ve lived my whole life in a small town called Parson’s Cove. I live alone except for seven cats.” Someone at the next table whispered, “awww, poor darlin’” very loudly. I turned, looked the woman in the eye, and said, “That doesn’t mean for one second that I’m lonely. I have some wonderful friends. In fact, my best friend, Flori Flanders, was planning on coming with me. It just happened, however, that her daughter decided to give birth to her third or fourth child so Flori stayed home.”
Someone asked a question. Who was it? Grace. That’s who it was. Now, what was it she asked? My brain almost hurt from concentrating so hard.
“What’s Parson’s Cove like? It sounds so quaint.”
That was it. That’s what she’d asked. I said, “It’s beautiful. About a hundred years ago, homesteaders built the town right beside a lake. We have quite a few tourists in the summer who rent cottages and houses in the area. In fact, the house right behind mine is a rental. Actually, last summer no one wanted to rent it because of the murder.” I got everyone’s attention when I said that. It was Grace who said, “There was a murder?” Of course, then I had to tell the story how I’d seen two people removing a body. I tried not to sound too self-important so I told them in my most humble way how without me, the case would never have been solved. Everyone gasped when I said the killer kidnapped me but I’d managed to escape. Out of all of them, Grace seemed the most interested in my story.
Now, could I remember what each person said? It isn’t that easy when your brain cells are degenerating at the same speed as your eyesight.
Sally stood up next. When she stood up, her perfume wafted across the table. Perhaps, ‘propelled’ was a better verb. I was sitting sort of kiddy-corner to her and it was all I could do to keep from gasping for air. I remember what she wore that day because she reminded me of Flori. She was wearing this dazzling blue-green outfit. Those happen to be Flori’s favorite colors (along with bright orange). The only difference was that Flori’s clothes flowed outward from the neck down and Sally’s didn’t flow at all. They clung. The neckline was on the low side and her ample breasts seemed ready to pop right over the top. That, of course, is not Flori. Flori is very prim and proper when it comes to things like that.
I missed most of Sally’s speech, simply because she mumbled through her swollen lips. I do remember she said that she’d tried out for the movies and would’ve been a big star except for some reason - which I couldn’t make out. She spoke of being a ballerina and I overheard Andrea whisper to Grace that she was probably an exotic dancer. I was more inclined to think of pole dancing. Anyway, she really didn’t have much to say. She’d lived in quite a few states but didn’t say exactly where she was from. One thing she did make sure we knew was that she was happily divorced again and was on the quest for someone new. After saying that, she threw Ralph a ‘look’ and then, Mr. Hatcher. Ralph grinned and turned pink but Mr. Hatcher didn’t even glance her
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