Entry #653589, added on 06-07-09 @ 8:24 pm EDT
Entry Access Restriction: None.
| Post for June 5--535 | Entry #653589 |
“Marge, did you hear about that Kelly boy?”
“Helen, don’t get started! You know I hate gossip!”
Helen buttered her buttermilk biscuit, a small sly smile playing at her lips. Marge always said she hated the small town tales, but Helen knew the truth. Marge ate it up.
“He’s been seen over at Mrs. Harris’ when the mister is away.”
Oh Helen! He’s probably just having her tutor him in math. Now you stop talking trash about our youth.”
Inward Marge’s alarms were going off. She had suspected that the pretty math teacher was smiling just a little too widely lately. And to think that she was seducing that poor boy!
“…the football team and his girlfriend,” Helen was saying.
“What?”
“Dear, do try to keep up. I was saying that if they find out for sure that he will most likely get kicked off the football team and his girlfriend will dump him.”
Marge rolled her eyes at her friend and bit into the buttered biscuit. No one made them like the Lucky Diner. Mel had a secret recipe that he shared with no one, not even his cooks. Brad Newby, another of the town’s young men, stopped by their table to refill their coffee cups.
“Now here’s an upstanding young man, Marge,” Helen proclaimed. “He works hard, goes to school and knows how to treat a lady. You’re making good grades are you son?”
“Yes ma’am,” Brad answered. “Would you be needin’ anything else?”
“Not right now, young man, thank you,” replied Helen.
As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Helen leaned over the table.
“You heard his gal may be pregnant, haven’t you?”
Marge sighed. “Helen, do you ever stop? Where do you hear all this drivel?”
“Mostly at Barb’s Beauty Shop, some at church.”
Marge looked positively scandalized. “At church? In the Lord’s House? Gossips?”
“Dear, you’re spitting all over the table. Even the Lord needs entertainment. I heard the preacher may be leaving town soon. He’s ruffling the feathers of the wrong members of the congregation.”
“What do you mean ‘ruffling the feathers’?”
Helen knew she had Marge in the palm of her hand now. Once she asked a question it was all over but the crying. She sipped her coffee, savoring the moment.
“Well, I heard he has big ideas to change things and the elder people don’t want anything changed.”
“Like what things? Helen?”
“Oh, like letting the youth have more say in the church, changing things that are already voted on in church meetings, that kind of thing. Nothing earth shattering but enough that the older folks don’t like it.”
“So they are going to get rid of him?”
“Possibly.”
Marge sat her half eaten biscuit on the side of her plate.
“You look a little green, dear. Are you okay?” Helen inquired.
“Yes, yes. I am a little light headed. I think I need to go home and lie down.”
“You do that dear. I’ll call on you later.”
As Marge stood at the cash register to pay her check, Helen smiled to herself. So it was true, the preacher had been having an affair. And now she knew who the other participant was.
|
© Copyright 2009 Nikola (UN: nmarshall at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Nikola has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
|
Content Rating Notice: Recommended for Readers 18 Years and Older Only
Static Items
Books
Forums
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
