Periwinkle Chronicles, Tales of the Citizens of
Periwinkle [because all the other colors were already taken] County:
The Rev. Dr. Randall Nathan, (Retard), which is how they
pronounce retired in Periwinkle
County, or at least that’s what they tell him, was in his usual booth at Buddy
Mutts Coffee Shop, run by The Brothers Jim, who are not brothers to each other
but are brothers to the world, having recently added Jim Dhliwayo, a Somoli
pirate reclamation project, to their kitchen staff, so that there are now three
brothers Jim, with Golda Myear, his old college roommate’s golden retriever
beside him, since you are not allowed in Buddy Mutts unless you are accompanied
by a dog, and Claire was more than happy to get Golda, for whom they are
dog-sitting, while Tom and Sally are on vacation in Syria, having gotten it
confused with Seychelles, although it’s more like Golda Myear is
people-sitting, since he weighs 100 lbs but thinks she is a lap dog, out of the
house, with last year’s fruit cake on the table in front of him, to keep anyone
from sitting with him, lest he lose points in the Hermudgeon of the Year competition, hermudgeon being a conflation of hermit and curmudgeon, when five-year-old Clara Wembley
slipped into the booth across from him.
“I see that you are not deterred
by fruit cake, Clara,” said Dr. Nathan.
“Hey, Zeus, Maria, and
Josephina, no,” said Clara. “I’m used to fruit cakes. Uncle Jed is here for
Christmas.”
“You children sang nicely in the
program at The Methodist on Christmas eve, Clara.”
“Thanks, Randy preacher, but I
was surprised to see you there since the program started at 7 o’clock. Isn’t
that past your bed-time?”
“As you well know, Clara, if you
must use a derivative form of my name, I prefer Preacher Randy to Randy
preacher, and 7 is not my bed time, just my eye-resting and deep-breathing
exercise time, which I can do at church, along with the other old men, as well
as anywhere else, possibly even better, except that I noticed during O Little
Town of Bethlehem that there was a discordant note.”
“Yeah, that was little Larry,
Uncle Jed’s kid. He hadn’t been to rehearsals, so he didn’t know the words, so
while the rest of us were singing about along thigh dark streaks whining and
the other right words, he was singing the only song he knew, which is The Old
Cat Defecated in the Shavings and Covered it up with Straw.”
“I am surprised he knew that
word, Clara.”
“Well, actually, he used a
different word, but I don’t want to say that in front of Golda Myear. But you’re
right. I don’t know what shavings means,
either.”
***
A Golden Persimmon, or Simmie, is awarded to Georgia
Heltzel Karr, because the similarity between the activities in Periwinkle
County and events in other places is rarely coincidental.
[“Christ
in Winter,” Reflections On Faith For People In The Winter Of Their Years, can
be found at http://christinwinter.blogspot.com/]
{I
tweet occasionally as yooper1721, but it’s not really worth the effort to read
them.}
