Todays Big Smiley book 5, 4th. skit. We were told that kitty who wants a good home is a boy. So Laura named him Tommy. Still no offers. Everybody who lives around Gisela already took all the cats they could provide for. Now were waiting for Father God, in the Name of Jesus, to make a miracle, not just for Tommy, but for all the abandoned cats. Chapter 4 The highest element of the academy was the peaked attic where Freddy St. John, had finally outgrown a cheap garage study pad and drifted into his twenty first year. Although the children’s favorite teacher in all the world and Luigi St. John shared the same last name, they were not related. Their backgrounds were as far apart as the east is from the west. Andrew had picked Freddy up from a stick shelter covered by a brown plastic tarp that was camouflaged beneath the hanging branches of a wooded wilderness area, protected by a Private Property No Trespassing sign, fastened to a rusty barbwire fence. The amateur outdoorsman had woven this contraption together with the ambitious assistance of two equally amateur marijuana growers, wearing combat boots with their long skirts. Andrew had noticed Freddy’s threadbare appearance, but not before he was taken into custody and charged with possession of a small amount of weed. As far as they knew, what with most his nearly forgotten shady past mopped up behind them, his much, much higher regarded instigators, granddaughters of former Sheriff Simpodee, were still doing a little farming on the side. And furthermore, the state regulatory law against the possession of a small amount of marijuana had been altered effective immediately. After a couple of weeks, the legal paperwork to clear the criminal charges off their youthful and wrongful records had been submitted by a number of rehabilitated felons, including Freddy St. John. Andrew’s birth father, the so called hangin’ judge by his hard shell reputation, honorable be damned, Superior Court Judge Treadaway, with his piercing black eyes and silvery black beard, cloaked in a black robe made a fearsome appearance to a packed standing audience. In the background crowd that rascal, Coy Duehill, an Earnest T. Bass character if there ever was another one, was seated beside his legal wedded wife, Hailey and their five squirming, sticky thumbsuckin’ drape apes, four little girls and one bare bottom boy who was putting distance between himself and the soggy pamper, crawling undetected underneath the arm chairs toward the bench. A fairly large gathering of young and ignorant defendants, a few middle-aged slow learners and several whiskered, pot smokin’ elderly wineos stood on their hind legs, shaking in their boots, suffering silently how in tarnation they had been lured into this jailhouse mess again, with downcast eyes, pleading for mercy was more than a fool’s trick. When all they wanted to accomplish was to downgrade their weed smokin’ felony charges to less harmful misdemeanors. Acting uppity, the judge scolded one silly, recalcitrant girl for rolling her eyes in embarrassment; and, the hair-raising chill of a gnat in the ointment that heathenish Coy Duehill was on the prowl again bold as anything in a line up. I may have to cut this episode short, his honor hesitated to himself, as he shuffled and flipped the thick binder full of properly signed and sealed documents like a big deck of cards. In spite of the Murphy’s Law joker, old Treadaway still held an assortment of grievances close to his bulky chest for the sole purpose to torment and flog those who were brought before his heavy fisted gavel. Mean was his middle name…. But all of a sudden his moment of ultimate power was squelched and he gave up, with a shocked expression. “All Pititions Granted! Get the hell outta here!” In a flash, he ducked through the side door behind his throne and stuck his stinking foot in the flushing toilet. Coy’s damn kid pooped on his shoe. Coy Duehill’s contrary, aunt Meg, her brown hair trimmed short, in a moonshine flapper style, cheerfully wearing her cartoon colored scrubs, on duty at the hospital, as she laughed and giggled while she comforted the sick and the afflicted. She leaned over the judge on his third day after undergoing triple bypass heart surgery. “Does it smart?” she asked, peeking through her glasses, sympathetically, “now, let’s hear you poot real big.” At lunch time, another intensive care male nurse relieved her from duty. Randal carried himself with all the finesse of his gay community. His eyes lit up mischievously at the inkling of an old wives tale. Before he entered the room, he had to know, “You think that ugly dude killed his wife?” “I wasn’t here when that happened,” Meg whispered, “but they say, if he didn’t he might as well have. She got out of bed too soon after her baby was born and started a massive hemorrhage. One of the candy stripers found her huddling behind a door, in a pool of blood. “The little dwarf baby was sent home a few minutes before she died. He ended up with a nanny somewhere probably hiding in plain sight. Treadaway wouldn’t have anything to do with either one of them. Her adopted sister showed up and paid for her cremation at the mortuary with her own credit card.” “That’s spooky…” the male nurse turned around, “Yipes!” he jumped, Coy was behind him. “Why didn’t you ever tell me that?” he asked Meg, I’m your blooded nephew, we’re family.” “What good would it do, you skinny creep, you scared me, too.” “Pardon me, all over the place. You’re the one invited me for lunch, so you could feed me.” “Someone needs to put some meat on your bones. Don’t just stand there, I haven’t got all day, let’s run.” Seated across from each other, munching on a hefty bacon, lettuce and tomato on wheat toast, he tested a sip of his ice tea, with two sugars, and then ripped open two more, until it satisfied his sweet tooth. “I know someone who might be interested in that juicy tidbit you just told Randal.” The cat lady was resting in her favorite lounge chair, reading a feline version of a Thanksgiving bedtime story, aloud to an attentive, pile of furry, pot belly listeners. She pushed them off of her lap, laid the kitty picture book on the little table and answered the door bell. It was no surprise to be gently greeted by a pair of mourners, presenting an unusually pretty vase full of rose buds that the leading culprit had snatched on the way out of the crowded mortuary, along with Andrew’s mother’s last and final remains, that had also vanished off an obscure shelf, in a side room, to be laid at rest among others of her kind, safely inside the cat lady’s pet cemetery. Late that same night, the lady spirit, wearing an exquisite white gown, poured a glass of water in that man’s snoring beard to startle him wide awake, as she blew him a goodbye kiss, that strangely resembled a gesture full of angelic pizzazz. He tried to follow her, to make some kind of weird apology, but two preliminary judges, in black robes, dropped him off in a lonely dungeon called purgatory, where he was sentenced to do hard time, until only God knows when. Isabelle’s silky terrier barked wildly at two men, wearing dark suits and mafia type hats. Next door, Roxanne loosed three more shrieking mutts on the strangers. “Are those guys bothering you?” she yelled at top lung. Isabelle fanned a flyswatter to silence Bridget. “No, they just notified me that Andrew’s father died— and he couldn’t take his money with him.” “We’ll never forgive you if you spend it to move away.” “Not to worry,” she replied, “my son has his hands full right here at home.” Roxanne summoned the pups back inside the house. “Are you stopping over to Bookers to tell Andrew the good news?” “Not right now, I’m headed for Walmart, he can sweat it for a while longer without any lasting harm.” A short time later, she parked and greeted the veteran who had set up his gallon jug for donations and some tiny American flags to give in exchange, in front of the superstore. An old man hobbled passed, grumbling. As Isabelle tossed in a couple dollars, the volunteer collection agent, ask, “What’d he say?” “He said you guys are as bad as his beggin’ kids.” A quick stepping young mother put her baby in the grocery cart and instructed a set of identical twin girls to hold onto to the sides of the basket. Then she turned to smile at the witty lady. “What a cute baby,” Isabelle laughed, “I bet you had him so the twins wouldn’t be raised alone.” “You are so funny.” They met again on the way out, and the mother, with a car load of kids, tried unsuccessfully to start her car. Isabelle was standing by and the veteran came to their assistance. He asked, “When’s the last time you changed your air cleaner?” “I don’t know.” He lifted the hood and in short order, the grimy air cleaner was replaced and the ailing engine took off instantly. Isabelle asked, “How did you know that?” He shrugged his shoulders, “That’s the first thing they asked at the parts store.”
Posted on: Fri, 19 Dec 2014 12:10:34 +0000
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