Lesson 7 Part 2

Original Version

Dearest Herb


I haven't heard from you for several days, so I called your number and heard a recording that revealed your number has been changed. However, it was not offered.

I am writing because I'm worried about you. Particularly, since you left so abruptly during dinner the other night. Was something wrong? You should have spoken to me about it. You seemed to enjoy everything until I told you I killed my first husband with that very same meal. Actually, it wasn't the same. I served him chicken, while I baked you pork chops. I really was referring to the green beans. You always say how much you like green beans. Well, I killed my husband with green beans, but not on purpose, of course.

I remember when Mama and I canned those beans. It was the end of summer and we had picked several bushels from Mama’s entire garden. They were nice and green and had a crisp snap to them. Anyway, Mama was mad at her third husband, and as we worked diligently filling the Mason jars with green beans, she yammered on about how her slug of a husband would be sorry if he continued his drinking and gambling. After all the openings were fitted with rubber rings, and lids sealed tight, Mama put a red sticker on two of the jars. We stacked most of them on the shelves in the cellar. She gave me three jars, one with a red sticker, to take home. She said only serve the red sticker jar if Bud was causing problems. "It'll take care of what ails him," she said. I myself don't eat green beans.

Three months later, I used one of the jars and the next morning Bud was dead. At first, I just thought he was sleeping in rather late. He'd just lost his job. Some hours later I checked on him. Cold as ice. Kind of made me mad, because I had so much work to do and this big lug wouldn't move.

Finally, I called Mama. Asked me all kinds of questions and I explained everything from the night before. She confirmed he was a goner. She asked if I used the jar with the red sticker on it. When I nodded, she asked if Bud had been 'misbehavin.'
"Oh, yeah," I said. "Well then, you didn't do anything wrong, little girl. It was the camouflage God." Mama is so good with words. Don't you think?

So, you see Herb, you really misunderstood what I was saying. Anyway, since Mama's third husband died, she just doesn't can green beans anymore, because her new beau likes applesauce.

Maybe I could bring you some applesauce. I'll ask Mama when she is canning again. Do you like applesauce, Herb?

Please let me know. I'd like to see you once more.

Love you to death,
Eveline


Revised Version

Dearest Herb

I haven’t heard from you for days, so I called your number and heard a recording that announced it has been changed, but it was not offered.

I am writing because I’m worried about you, since you lift so abruptly during dinner the other night. Was something wrong? You seemed to enjoy everything until I told you I killed my husband with the same meal. Truth be told, it wasn’t the same. I served him chicken, while I baked you pork chops. I was referring to the green beans. You always say how much you like green beans.

It was the end of summer when Mama and I canned those beans. The beans were nice and green and had a crisp snap to them.

While we toiled, Mama complained that she was mad at her third husband, Ralph, and as we plugged away filling the Mason jars with beans, she yammered on about how her slug of a husband would be sorry if he continued his drinking and gambling. After all the openings were fitted with rubber rings, and lids sealed shut, Mama put a red sticker on two of the jars. We stacked most of them on the shelves in the cellar. She gave me some of the jars and said only serve the red sticker jar if Bud was causing problems. “It’ll camouflage what ails him,” she said. Mama knows I don’t care much for green beans.

A couple weeks later, I used one of the jars and the next morning Bud was dead. At first, I just thought he was sleeping in, since he just lost his job, but hours later I checked on him and he was cold as ice. Kind of made me mad, because I had so much work to do and this lug head wouldn’t budge. So I called Mama.

She asked me all kinds of questions. I explained everything from the night before and she confirmed he was a goner. She asked if Bud had been ‘misbehavin.’ “Oh, yeah,” I said. “Well then you didn’t do anything wrong, little girl. It was the camouflage god.” Mama is so good with words. Don’t you think?

So, you see Herb, you misunderstood what I was saying. Anyway, since Ralph died, she just doesn’t can green beans anymore, because her new beau likes applesauce.

Maybe I can bring you some applesauce. I’ll ask Mama when she is canning again. Do you like applesauce, Herb?

Please let me know. I’d like to see you once more.

Love you to death,

Eveline