Land of a Hundred Wonders

An Eye for an Eye

Yesterday after we left Tanner Farm, Keeper and me took a stroll over to Candy World. Loretta wasn’t there. Probably busy rolling around in salted peanuts and sticky caramel with Reverend Jack. But Sue Pie, her help, sold me a bag. I think my mama musta been fond of chocolate-covered cherries, too, since almost every time I eat one, that picture of her and me down at the lake catching pollywogs drifts into my mind. Reverend Jack has told me that when things like that happen, when a smell or a sound or a taste makes something rise up familiar in your head, that is called-a cents memory. He says that’s a good sign. I have to agree with him. My brain feels as shiny as a brand-new silver dollar.

I also dropped my roll of film at Bob’s Drug Emporium and told Bob that it was a RUSH job. He said that he wasn’t so busy and that I could have the pictures back today because he develops them himself in a closet at the back of the store. I sure am glad to have my black leather-like back.

After making our usual morning stop at Land of a Hundred Wonders to help Miss Lydia with her hives (honey is an important ingredient in many of her miraculous potions, particularly the one she makes to treat shingles), I’m back doing my job at Top O’ the Mornin’, lapping that creamy cherry center out of the waxy dark chocolate and gloating like crazy over the new headline I’ve just written in my blue spiral:

Buster Malloy Found Dead on

Browntown Beach!

My ears are still ringing from the row Janice and Clever had out back of the diner just moments ago. It went something like this:

“Goddamn it, Carol. When ya gonna learn life ain’t always about you. I got needs too, ya know,” Janice yowled.

Clever catted back, “What ya mean, life ain’t always about me? When has it ever been about me?” and her hair was all crazy-looking, too. “It’s been ’bout you, Mama. Ya don’t care a whit ’bout me. All ya care about is gettin’ a bottle and a man to keep ya-”

That’s when Janice hauled back her ropey arm and slapped Clever straight across the face so hard that the yellow rose flew outta her hair smack dab into a puddle. And Janice probably woulda hit her like that again if I hadn’t yelled, “Charlie, come quick,” and he hadn’t come running through the back door, and seeing what was going on, said, “That’s about enough of that.” Clever waited ’til Grampa got a good hold of her mama and then she hawked and spit at Janice’s white waitress shoes, picked up the rose and stuck it back into her hair, mud and all, and went running off into the woods with one of Miss Florida’s chiffon pies tucked under her arm.

So, that’s what’s been going on around here. Sorry. Nothing else much new to report.

HA! HA! HA!

You think I’ve forgotten that I left you hanging in suspense after Miss Jessie left for her Cray Ridge Days meeting and I slunk over to the barn to negotiate the return of my briefcase with Sneaky Tim Ray, don’t you?

Well, I haven’t. Not by a long shot!

(I’m proud to report that my sense of humor may be reassembling itself. To quote the Jokes-A-Million book: Doing the unexpected is important in the funny business.)

Sooo… let me get ya caught up.

This is what happened yesterday right after I waved good-bye to Miss Jessie, who was on her way to the Cray Ridge Days refreshment meeting.

Keeper and me hurried up to the barn, and without further ado headed toward the narrow stairs to the hayloft with a lot of Trepidation: Trembling fright.

Teddy Smith was sweeping the barn aisle at the time, moving a piece of straw from one corner of his mouth to the other, concentrating with all he had. I am in general much more acquainted with him than I am with his brother since Teddy is over at the Land of a Hundred Wonders so much of the time helping out Miss Lydia with this and that. He was there this morning, in fact, same time I was.

Vern called over from the work sink, “Hep you with something, Gibber?”

I was about about to say, No, thank you, but then from outta nowhere this plan came to me… just about blinded me, that’s how bright it was.

“Ya need somethin’ outta the loft?” Vern asked, as I was placing my foot on the bottom step.

I most certainly did. Because nobody, I mean NOT ONE BODY, is gonna stop me from writing that story about Mr. Buster. And that includes Sneaky Tim Ray Holloway. So I arranged my brilliant plan in my mind and a bothered look on my face when I answered him, “Sneaky Tim Ray’s up top. He had some real bad things to say about Miss Florida yesterday and I’m fixin’ to have a few words with him to set him straight.”

Vern stopped rinsing the bucket he was holding and said, “What ’zactly that uselessness Holloway have to say?”

Winging it, I said, “Ah… he told me with a lot of digust in his voice that Miss Florida smelled like… like… a chicken coop.”

On hearing that, Teddy leaned his broom against a stall door, brushed his hands down the front of his work pants, and headed up the loft staircase with jackhammer feet. I could smell his mad comin’ off him. Almost see it in waves.

“Don’t kill him,” Vern warned, because his brother is the classic example of still waters run… waters still run… Teddy’s the strong, silent type.

“Long as you’re up there, would you mind terribly retrievin’ my briefcase?” I called after him. “Sneaky Tim Ray stole it off me.”

Even though he didn’t say, I sure will, Gibber, I knew Teddy heard me by the way the muscles in his back got even bulgier.

“All right then,” I said, pleased as punch with my little plan. “Need some help, Vern?”

Turning the water back on full force, he said, “A body could always use a little help.”

“I’d have to agree with you,” I said, and picked up a rough brush from the shelf above the work sink.

That’s right about when the storm, not entirely satisfied with the job it’d done earlier, decided to give it another shot. Hard rain on a tin roof makes Billy ascared because it reminds him of gunfire, but to me, that tat… tat… tat… was real soothing, especially since it was harmonizing with the shud… shud… shud from above that could only mean one thing. Teddy Smith had gone back to his sweeping. Only this time it was the hayloft floor and he was using Sneaky Tim Ray Holloway instead of a broom.

Don’t think a girl could ask for sweeter sounds.

After it got all still up top, Teddy sauntered down the steps looking refreshed and swinging my briefcase like he just got back from a job in a Louisville office. Normally, if a colored man beat up on a white man, there would be quite a to-do around here. But when it came to Holloway, thank goodness, nobody seemed to care who whacked him around. (Since Teddy only uses his high C voice once in a blue moon, I knew I could count on him NOT to inform Sneaky Tim Ray it was me who told him that Miss Florida was coop-smelling.)

When all was said and done, the Smiths were kind enough to drop me off back in town.

“Thanks for the ride,” I told ’em, slamming the Chevy door behind me.

And they musta really liked the gold stars I gave them because they gifted me something in return. Teddy tossed it to me through the truck window, and Vern said, “Think of it as a souvenir,” and tuba- laughed. “An eye-catchin’ one.”

Other than forgetting to pick up Clever’s belongin’s bag, which I promised Miss Florida I would do today, I consider it one heck of a successful afternoon.

So here we are back at the diner, in case you’ve forgotten. (Awful feelin’, ain’t it?)

“Gibby?” Grampa calls from behind the cash register. Top O’ the Mornin’ is closing-time empty