Jake and Jenny Newland let Eleanor & Franklin, their potbellied pigs, push open the door to “The Buddy Mutts Café,” where you have to be escorted by a dog or the brothers Jim won’t serve you, so that Jake could have his hands available to use his walker and Jenny would have her mouth available to instruct him in proper technique. The brothers Jim [they are not brothers to each other, but they are both named Jim, and they are brothers to somebody] think that Franklin & Eleanor are a special breed of dog.
“It smells like a stable in here,” sniffed Jenny. “Looks like one, too,” observed Jake.
Indeed it did. There was a miniature pony, and a fainting goat, and two black sheep, and three blind mice, and a fatted calf.
“Oh, excrement,” exclaimed Jenny. “I forgot. On Christmas eve the brothers Jim expand their definition of ‘dog.’ Now we’ll never get Eleanor & Franklin to go home. They’ll get full of eggnog and start to dance with those sheep, and that dumb goat will faint, and…”
“Do you mind? We’re in sort of a hurry,” came a voice from behind them.
“Oh, more excrement,” whispered Jenny as she pushed Jake on in through the door and off to a side table where Randall and Claire Nathan sat, along with Kate Bates and her husband, Ben “Seymour” Bottoms. “It’s those three King brothers from over in Orientar, over in the eastern part of the county, Baltimore and Mel and the one they call ‘Gassy.’”
“That last one should fit in real well here tonight,” said Shirley Knott from the next table, where she sat with Kay Pasa and Ann Hydrous.
“Did you bring them?” yelled Jim when he saw the three King brothers.
“Got ‘em right here,” called Gassy as he held up an Airwick. “Golden slippers,” called Mel. “Persimmon sap,” called Baltimore.
“Good grief,” said Claire. “What are the brothers Jim cooking for supper?”
“Not to worry,” said Kate, who is a sibling to a brother Jim and so has inside knowledge. “They’re door prizes.” “But who would want…” started Claire, but the door banged open and a rather harried looking man broke in.
“Are we too late to get counted?” he shouted.
“Almost,” yelled Jim. “What took you so long?”
“Came here in a Kia. Good grief, it was like riding on a donkey.”
“Counted for what?” asked Randall.
“Tickets for the door prizes,” said Kate. “They divide the room up into states, according to how people look, like ‘the state of disrepair,’ and ‘the state of dishevelment,’ and…”
“We get it, we get it,” grumbled Randall. “They’ll classify you in the ‘state of dismay,’” laughed Claire.
“Each state gets more chances at the door prizes, according to how many people are counted in it,” said Seymour. “It’s kind of like a census.”
Just then a woman appeared behind the man at the door. She was pregnant as a watermelon.
“Holy excrement,” gasped Jenny. “I’ll bet next they’re going to say they’ve got no place so spend the night.”
“And this place is like a stable tonight,” exclaimed Claire.
“And we’ll all get snowed in and have to stay here, and the baby will be born, and they’ll give it all the door prizes the King brothers brought,” said Jake. “I KNOW this story.”
“Get hold of yourselves,” said Randall. “This is Periwinkle County. Nothing is going to happen here.”
And he was right. Nothing happened. At least nothing was heard from Periwinkle County until after the new year had dawned. So if the chronicles of the county were suspended for a week, surely nothing happened… or did it…
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