A new story written just for my readers for St. Patrick's Day 2015. I suppose you can call it "magical realism." Introducing a new character to the Nameless, Texas family--Miss Esmeralda Wofford, AKA "Miss Essie."
Hope you enjoy the story, and feel free to share it with friends, Romans, countrymen and the gardeners you know and love--you know the drill. After a few weeks, it will be removed and published on Amazon for the Kindle.
For more "Nameless, Texas" stories, please check my Amazon Author Page.
Miss Essie and the Green-Glittered Tiara
A "Nameless, Texas" story
by Bobbi A. Chukran
http://bobbichukran.com
Copyright ©2015
Miss Esmeralda Wofford loved holidays—holidays of all kinds.
She didn't care whether it was one of the big ones, like Christmas, or the
smaller ones—she saw them all as an excuse to carry on and have some fun. At her age, which was between 59-years old and
dead, she was just old enough not to worry about what her neighbors thought
about her anymore. She'd quit doing that
back in her 40s. According to her
daughter Lee-Ann, that was one of her failings.
Miss Essie liked to think it was one of her strengths, one of her better
traits. "Too many folks think they
have to act like the Pope," Miss Essie said to Lee-Ann. Although, being a Southern Baptist, Miss
Essie wasn't quite sure what the Pope did, but she was sure he was a devout man
who would never wear things that embarrassed his children. Although, she did
wonder about that pointy hat.
"There goes Miss Essie," her neighbor Beulah
Sproule, said, snurling up her nose like she'd smelled a skunk. "Carryin'
on like a blamed fool, swannin' all about town in that damned tiara." Beulah always spoke in a loud voice to make
sure the object of her ire overheard her.
Beulah Sproule wouldn't know a bit of fun if it bit her on
the ass, Miss Essie thought then tittered behind her hand. She loved saying word like "ass"
because she knew that in general, old people weren't supposed to say words like
that. She got a small thrill out of doing things that old people weren't
supposed to do. Although, she wasn't
quite sure who made up those rules.
She'd like to meet them someday, and give them a piece of her mind. She made a mental note to use several cuss
words when she did.
Miss Essie had been overjoyed when she saw the St. Patrick's
Day tiaras the weekend before at the Wal-Marts.
Nameless, Texas didn't have very many places to shop, and the Wal-Marts
was where everyone went to buy their necessary evils like Fleet enemas and glass
measuring cups. And optional decorative pieces of ornamentation like tiaras.
The tiaras were bright green, fashioned with three giant cardboard
shamrocks all across the top, and were covered with green glitter. If Essie's sister Myrtle had seen it, she
would have called it gaudy. Essie just
thought it was lovely. Sparkles always
caught her eye. And green was her favorite color.
Miss Essie was especially fond of anything with glitter on
it, and if it was a bright color, even better.
She'd picked up the tiara in the store, glanced around to see if any of
the clerks were watching (they never were at that place) and she slipped the tiara
over her short cap of white hair, to make sure it fit. It did, so she wore that tiara all around the
store, just to gauge the reactions she might get. After shopping for a few other needed items
like spring Oreos with blue centers and Little Debbie cakes with sprinkles, she
quickly made her way to the check-out counter.
"Why, isn't that pretty?" the checker girl
asked. "I'll bet your little
granddaughter is going to love wearing that." Miss Essie frowned then said, "I'm sure
she will." She knew how to pick her
battles. And the checker girl at the
Wal-Marts was not the place to wax eloquently on how adults should learn to
have a bit of fun. After the checker
girl scanned it, she slipped the tiara back on her head, the price tag flapping
in the wind, and walked out of the store, her head held high.
Although it was only the day before Saint Patrick's Day,
that didn't stop Miss Essie from showing off her new tiara on her jaunts about
town. The ladies at the Nameless Public
Library smiled when she walked in, because they were used to Miss Essie's
weekly Monday afternoon visits. She always
checked out an old romance novel to occupy herself during the upcoming
week. This week, she chose a frontier
story named LEATHER AND LACE. She hoped
it had some juicy bits in it. She
couldn't stand to read a boring romance unless it had some juicy bits.
Otherwise, why bother, she thought?
"Don't you look fine today!" librarian Laura Belle
said, smiling and wishing that she had the guts to wear something like a
glittery green tiara to work. She knew the kids she worked with at Story Hour
would love it if she did.
The teen-aged volunteer, Sally Dorrell, stared and her jaw
dropped when Miss Essie walked in. She couldn't
think of a word to say.
Poor child, Miss Essie thought. She's still of the age where
she wouldn't be caught dead in public with something like this on her head. I'll bet she's afraid one of her friends
would see her, twitter about it and it would be all over school in ten seconds
flat.
Miss Essie liked to walk from her home to the library and
back, to get some exercise and fresh air.
She didn't take her old 1956 Chevrolet out unless it was absolutely
necessary. No need wasting gas while her
two legs were still working. Week after week, except when it was too cold or
too hot, Miss Essie made the almost one-mile walk to the library.
Occasionally, afterwards, she'd stop off at Do-Lolly's
Diner, at the edge of downtown, for a bowl of soup, saltine crackers and a
small bowl of banana pudding for dessert.
She loved Do-Lollys because it was normally a friendly, warm kind of
place. And their food was like her mama used to cook back home in Ft. Worth.
She thought the coffee tasted like coffin-varnish, but she needed a jolt of
caffeine that late in the day.
This Monday, as she walked in, the dull roar ceased for a
moment, and all went still. Essie looked
around, found an empty booth and slid in, smiling at everyone as they stared at
her tiara. "How y'all doin' today?" she chirped. "It's a wonderful day out, isn't
it?" A few of the regulars murmured
their howdys.
Miss Essie smiled again and pointed to her head. "If
anybody else is interested, and from the attention I’m getting, it looks like
you might be, they had more of these tiaras down at the Wal-marts. Only $3.99, too. I thought it was quite the bargain, considerin'
how much glitter they put on it."
Embarrassed, the diners looked down at their plates, and
pretty soon the clack and ping of cutlery on old china plates commenced.
Over in the back booth, a few ladies of the Nameless Garden
Club clucked their tongues and shook their heads. "What is that old fool
up to NOW?" Mrs. Pepper Smythe, president of the club, asked.
"Good lord, would you look at that!" Her sister
exclaimed. After a bit of tsking and
clucking, they turned their attention back to their garden salads with fried
chicken strips on top. With low-fat ranch
dressing, of course.
Miss Essie finished her soup, smacked her lips loudly, paid
her bill, leaving exactly 25-cents tip for her server like she always did, and
tottled back out into the sunshine.
Usually nothing much happened on Miss Essie's jaunts into
town, but since this was early spring and many things were changing. It had
been a long, cold, wet horrible winter and Miss Essie turned her face up to the
sun, like a sunflower. She hadn't gone
too far before she noticed something buzzing around her ear. She flicked her hand at it, shooing it
away. Probably an old fly, she thought. "Shoo!" she cried. "Get away from
me, you nasty thing!" Miss Essie
never could abide flies since she learned that they regurgitate the last bite
they ate before taking a bite of something new.
She kept an old cat, Mr. Bodiddles, inside her house because that cat
was a goin' Jessee when it came to catching flies. That cat would sit quietly for hours, watching
the flies in Miss Essie's kitchen window, then SWOOP! he was up on the
windowsill snappin' that fly up in his mouth and gobbling it down.
She was always amazed how fast that cat would snatch up
those flies. "He's a fly snatcher,
all right," she remarked to the postman once when he witnessed the cat
snatching up two flies at once.
"That's why I keep him around, nasty old cat," she explained,
giving him a well-deserved pat on the head.
Essie walked a few more blocks, and before long, there was
more buzzing and whirring near her ears.
She flapped her wrist at it, knocking her tiara to the ground. "Well, would you look at that!"
Miss Essie exclaimed. That green
glittery tiara was covered with bees! Being a gardener, Miss Essie knew that
bees were her friends. She had never
killed a one of them. She was even loath
to kill other flying things like wasps--other than flies, that is. Even the yellow jackets that everybody else
hated, Miss Essie let be. She could
never be sure if one of those flying creatures would be the ONE that would end
up pollinating her heirloom Mr. Stripey tomato.
She had grown one from seeds over the winter and it was just starting to
bloom when she planted it in her garden. She just didn't want to take the
chance. She'd had a problem with
pollination the year before. Miss Essie
had read about the whole bee collapse THING, and was worried. So she tried to
co-exist peacefully with the winged creatures in her garden.
Using her foot and flapping her hands, she shooed the bees
off the tiara, picked it up and replaced it back on her head. All the flapping was to no avail. She picked
up her pace, and by the time she got home, the sound of the buzzing and tiny whirring
wings was about to make her dizzy.
Seeing the writing on the wall, Miss Essie carefully removed
the tiara, thought for a moment then planted it in the dirt right beside her Mr.
Stripey. The bees, seeing they had it
much better in the garden than they'd had on an old cardboard tiara (even one
covered with green glitter), finally flew off and busied themselves in the
rosemary and nectarine tree that had just started blooming the week before. And as Miss Essie watched, one fat one buzzed
over and bumped at her Mr. Stripey.
Miss Essie stood for a minute in the garden, and watched.
"Welcome to your new home," she said, her cheeks flushed. She felt a bit embarrassed whenever she
watched any pollination actually happening, and finally turned away. She wondered if she could bring more bees
home the next week. Perhaps if the tiara
was red, she could gather more of them? No, she decided, she'd attract hummingbirds
that way. The bees definitely liked the
green glitter. Perhaps if she covered the tiara with a bit of plant pollen, or
honey?
Miss Essie slowly climbed up into the big old white rocking
chair on her back porch, in the shade, and slowly started rocking. Rocking and thinking about the miraculous power
of green glitter.
END
Copyright ©2015 by Bobbi A. Chukran
