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Eliza Lynn Taylor

Eliza Lynn Taylor
Eliza Lynn Taylor Freelance Writer

Saturday, March 30, 2013

Want Gravy with That?



"He skipped out on another date? Really?" Karen looked at me questioningly from the lower stair on the fire escape. "How many times is this?"

"Four," I answered. "We used to go out on Friday and Saturday night, now just once a week." I fidgeted on my narrow stair trying not to knock my diet soda over while I unwrapped my sandwich. "I probably wouldn't mind if he just wouldn't make plans in the first place, and then change them on Thursday when it's too late make other plans."

"I think that may be by design," she said, stuffing a Frito in her mouth and crunching loudly. She swallowed and answered the question I hadn't even asked, but it was all over my face-'How do you know this?'

"My cousin told me he saw Brad over in Madison last weekend with another girl, and it isn't the first time."

"Why didn't you tell me?" I asked.

"Well, he just told me this morning. It's some kind of guy code or something that they don't squeal on one another for two-timing." She drained her own can of soda and looked up at me, her eyes squinting against the noon sun. "What? This is the first I've had a chance to tell you."

Marguerite jumped in. "I can get my dad's car Saturday. Want to go to town and see if we can find him? I'll bet that's why he waits until the last minute to say anything; so you won't go to Madison and see him there."

I thought for minute. "Yes, I think I would, and I'm going to tell him I'm not going tomorrow with him either. I've heard of him running around before, a few times," I added, "And I am really sick of it."

So the plan was set. Marguerite, Karen and I would go to Madison and see if we could figure out where Brad was hanging out and nail him. Well, I don't know that I would confront them on the spot. Chances were that the poor girl didn't know anything about me. We lived in a tiny little town east of the county seat about twenty miles away from Madison and if she was from there, we didn't even go to the same school. If she was from here, she'd know all about it. There were only about two hundred students in our entire school and one tended to know who was dating whom. The bell rang. We stuffed our trash into our lunch bags, gave one another the high-five and went to our respective classes.

Saturday night we cruised around Madison. We stopped at the drive-in and got ice cream cones; mine was a twist. We were on a mission and needed to be alert. After adding a large non-diet soda to the mix, were very alert, or sugar high; I'm not sure which. We were giggling and pointing at everything and everything was funny. There was a dance-off in the parking lot of closed down restaurant and those kids were pitiful, but we were not so inclined to let them know or show them the err of their ways, probably because we wouldn't have looked any better.

We checked out the drive-in movie theater, but didn't go in; there wasn't any sense buying tickets to a movie we, one, had already seen, and two, wouldn't have stayed at if Brad wasn't there anyway. But we did know how long it lasted and when it started so we knew when to come back. Sure enough, when the movie turner out, there he was with a pretty little red-head practically helping him drive his truck. My eyes narrowed as he drove right on past without even noticing us.

"Bastard," Karen said.

"I agree," I said. "Now, how do we get the two-timing bastard back?"

"I don't know," Karen said, "But that's not who my cousin described Brad being with last night at the football game."

"Last night! He was supposed to go with me last night. I waited until right before school let out to tell him I couldn't make it."

"I guess he has a back up list," Marguerite said.

"I don't think that's helping," Karen said when I just glared at Marguerite. "Want to follow them?"

"Just a little ways," I said. "Then I want to go home and think."

We stopped across the park when we saw them pull off the street to a secluded area; at least they thought it was. The moon was full and we could see what they were up to, especially since we got out and followed on foot.

I didn't like what I saw at all.  Karen grabbed our hands and practically dragged us back to the car. I was shaking I was so mad. The truck windows were all steamed up by the time we got there.

"Why did you do that?" I asked Karen when we were going back towards home and I had found my voice again.

"Did you want to wait until it started rocking?" she asked.

She had a point. I might have crept up on them and took my pen knife to the tires – all four of them.

Monday didn't help matters. I made sure to avoid Brad. There were alternative routes to my classes that he wouldn't take and I knew all of them. He was fairly new to the area and didn't know his way around the building like I did. Apparently that didn't keep him from learning his way around the area though, because he sure knew where to find the girls.
Karen's cousin joined us for lunch on the fire escape. I sat and stared at Brad's truck which he parked next to the agriculture-slash-auto-shop building across from the gymnasium. I didn't even eat. "What's up with her?" Darryl asked.

"She saw Brad Saturday night with another girl and they were a little busy in the park," Karen told him.

"Yeah, he bragged about that at gym class. I thought he was just talking big. What do you know?"

"I know I'm going to get him back," I said. They all three looked at me. "Want to help?"

Darryl was the first to volunteer. "What do you want me to do?"

I smiled. "He's awfully proud of that damn truck. He is always fiddling with the engine."

"Yes, so?" Marguerite said.

"I have heard that if you block the tail pipe either the engine will get really screwed up or the tail pipe will blow, or the muffler. I don't really care which. It won't be cheap no matter what."

"How do you intend to do that?" Karen asked.

I told them my plan and by the end of lunch everyone had their part down. We would have to wait until the next day, but this was going to be good. That was the day he usually went into town for lunch. I smiled an evil genius sort of smile as I thought about it. My teacher tried to get me to tell him what was going through my mind since algebra wasn't that exciting and she knew it couldn't be the assignment. I just handed her my finished work without a word.

First break we were ready. Everyone produced a potato from their pockets, purses, and lunch bags. I scowled. They weren't very big, possibly not big enough to plug the tail pipe. We looked at each other as Darryl produced a Frisbee also. Someone started humming the theme to Mission Impossible; I'm not sure who, but we went with it.

"This may take more than one," I said. "These tators are pretty small."

We made our way to the gym and unceremoniously starting throwing the flying saucer, at least I did. They took turns catching- or should I say missing- the yellow plastic disc. I always managed to land it next to Brad's truck.

"It doesn't fit," Karen said. "They are too small."

"Well, could you get it out so another one could be put there? A bigger one maybe?" I asked.

"No, it went in too far and I couldn't get it out without looking obvious."

"Okay," Darryl said. "Then we'll just have to stuff them all in there."

"Will that work?" Marguerite asked.

"I don't know," I said with a shrug. "But I guess we'll find out." I handed mine off to Karen for another try. And one by one, they all went into the pipe.

We eyed one another. They weren't exactly hidden, but as long as he didn't walk around the back, and he usually just jumped right in and peeled out of the lot, he wouldn't notice. I snickered and we headed back to the main building to await the carnage at lunch time.

We sat on our usual stairs on the fire escape in full view of the 'show'. Barely nibbling on our lunches we waited for Brad to start his truck, or at least try. Nonchalant we weren't. He tried several times and that engine just would not turn over. It didn't blow anything, but it wouldn't start. Finally, one of his friends came out of the shop and raised the hood.

"Well, why don't we turn up the carburetor a little bit?" he shouted at Brad from underneath the hood. I almost spit my soda all over Karen as I started laughing. He monkeyed around with the carburetor a minute. He dropped the hood. "That should do it," he said. "Give her a whirl."

Brad turned the key and we waited almost breathlessly to see what would happen. It made a few valiant tries to start and then it finally did, but it sounded really bad. A minute later there was a loud explosion as potatoes shot out of that tail pipe like cannon. There were mashed potatoes all over the gym wall.

My mouth fell open. Marguerite whispered an expletive and added, "I think we made a potato gun." I shushed her.

The coach ran out of the building. He looked at the mess on the wall and the fragments of potato clinging to the tail pipe. "Well, son, looks like you really pissed somebody off. Get something and clean up that mess," he said as sternly as he could. The coach looked across the asphalt basketball court as us. There we were, Karen with her hands over her face covering her eyes, Marguerite the same but appearing to cover her ears, and me, covering my mouth to keep from laughing. He broke up laughing loudly, "Need some gravy with that?" and walked away as Brad stared at his potato covered exhaust pipe. He never once looked at us.

The coach strolled over to the fire escape. "Ladies," he said with a nod of his head. Then he winked, and with a whisper he said, "Next time use a bigger potato. You have to block the entire thing," and walked away.

Down on the Farm: It's Spring-I Think

It's almost Easter and we still have snow- make that a LOT of snow. It is raining though so that is helping it melt. Unfortunately we had so much that when it got pushed up out the way for egress from the driveway, it blocked the natural drainage from the yard, so with the cold, I have a really big skating rink, and when it's above freezing. it's also covered in water. That is really fun; especially if you can't skate. At any rate, rain rather than snow and above freezing at least some of the day more than none of the day, means spring is on it's way - it's just taking its time getting here.

Spring means all sorts of things down on the farm including lots of work, but hey, we sort of live for that. (I don't know why.) I have already purchased some of the seeds for the planting, although I have more to get, and we have plotted out which fields will be planted in what and how much seed we need for each field. See, there really is a use for that algebra beyond high school. Also, we have to figure out if we can sell any left over hay and how much to someone who ran out, or whether to keep it until the grazing pasture is one, dry enough to turn cattle out on without their ruining it with their hooves, and two, if it is tall enough to give them yet. If it's too short, they'll just pull it up ruining the filed, and they will run out faster, and if it is too tall, they won't touch it because they think it is too tough. It's a balancing act! If there is a drought we might have to feed the old hay in order to have enough of the new hay to last the next winter. Ever wonder why farmers relied on the Old Farmer's Almanac? This is why. It might have been wrong, but it was somewhere to start. And it has lots of helpful charts to save time and help planning. There is a saying up here that the corn needs to be at least knee high by the Fourth of July. That's because if it isn't, it probably won't grow the rest of the way in time to harvest because our growing season is so short, so it's a good idea to know the weather charts and hope the fields are dry enough to plant, but not so much that the plants die from lack of moisture. (The balancing act thing again.)

We also are waiting for the snow to melt to stabilize the fence posts that heaved over the winter and put up new fence. We really need to get those calves out of the barn but they will go right through a weak fence. They would have been turned out last fall, but we got a late start and they weren't big enough to withstand the winter cold, although it was pretty harsh this year and we have lost full grown cows to it before, so these wouldn't have stood a chance. Once they are turned out, we plan on getting more. Spring calves can be turned out once they are weaned or if we're real lucky we can find some that are already weaned and save some time. I'm all for that.

I am still planning my garden. I'd really like to grow sweet potatoes, but every time I order them the seed company sends them almost dead, and way too late to grow. They say they send them at the optimal time for planting in my area. July is not the optimal time for planting any potatoes here. It gets cold before they have a chance to even grow a good bush on them, much less a tuber, and when they are pretty much dried up and dead when they arrive, there isn't much to be done to save them. Okra would also be on my wish list, but until I get that greenhouse I've always dreamed of to start plants early, the season is just too short. Still, I can hardly wait to get in there and plant something, because I know that even though it means more work later, I get to put up my own veggies and avoid the stuff in the store.

I might even get a couple of pigs this year.

Are you looking forward to spring too?

Monday, March 18, 2013

Wrting Prompt Short Story-Selling Your House

I love writing prompts. I get one every week from a newsletter and they are a lot of fun. This week was I am supposed to be selling my house and on the first day an old lady shows up with a chilling tale of something that happened there when she lived there as a child. Wow, did I have fun with that! Oh, and it has to be 500 words or less. Here's what I came up with.

What Happened Here?


I was so excited. My fiancé and I would be married soon and he had a new job about a hundred miles away in Memphis. All I had to do was get rid of the house my parents left me. I lived here after they passed away and it is comfortable, but it is also very old and needs updated. It isn't going to bring me a fortune, but it might get enough for a down payment on that new house we've been looking at in Memphis. The sign is up and the realtor assures me I'll have a lot of interest. People are buying in this area and fixing up the older homes. That is just what I wanted to hear.

A knock at the door stopped me in my packing. I need to get things ready to go, so I might as well start, right? I opened the door and there stood the cutest little old lady I've ever seen. Her white hair was in a tight bun that gave her very pale face the effect of having had plastic surgery to get rid of wrinkles. It didn't quite work. Her eye lids were red rimmed and practically lash-less. She wore a baggy white dress with pink stripes, sagging stockings, and flat brown well worn loafers. Her large flowered purse was held tightly under one age-spotted arm.

"May I help you?" I asked.

"Oh, I don't mean to bother you," she said. "I saw you have the old place for sale and I just had to see it one more time."

"One more time?" I asked, my eyebrows raised.

"My father built this house eighty years ago young lady. I grew up here," she explained.

"Oh, well do come in then. I'm glad to meet you."

She stepped carefully across the threshold and her eyes gazed around the room in slow sections. "It has certainly changed since I was a girl."

"Well, my parents bought it and remodeled it about thirty years ago. I guess it had been through several people before that. They put up a swing in the back yard for me in an old oak tree."

"I'll bet I know just the one," she said with a smile.

"Would you like to see it?" I asked smiling. There were several oak trees out there, but there was one that looked especially old and flowers never would grow there.

"Why, yes I would. Thank you."

I helped her out to the tree and she said yes, it was the tree she was thinking of. She knelt slowly down and wiped a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "It's just been so long. You see I've kept a secret since I was twelve. This is where my father buried my mother after he caught her with the milkman. He swore me to secrecy and I was too afraid to tell."

I fainted on the spot.