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Grandma Knows Best

“I never liked him,” Agnes noted, watching a vibrant blue mini van zoom by on the highway, having to place her wild gray curls back over her shoulder.
For a decade now a highway has sat in front of her little white house, which sits upon dead grass with kitschy statues standing randomly about. The house itself is very old, the porch creaks and the antique wind chimes no longer jingle, but whine.
Placed a little away from the house, three different colored wicker chairs that are frequently in use, one in pink, another in a faded green while the last is yellow. And resting there are three old ladies, Agnes, Merna, and Trill.
“Never?” Surprised, Trill raised, pushing her large goggle like glasses back up her nose. Under such heavy eye wear her mousy features seemed to be even smaller.
“Oh no,” Swearing confidently, Agnes explains “He always tells me what to do, how to act. Who does he think he is?”
“Your son.” Merna said, a larger woman than the other two with a much vaster and deeper voice.
Pouting, Agnes crosses her arms and grumbles in her throat, “No excuse.”
From behind them, the door opened as little Kelly galloped down the stairs with lemonades in her hand. Her smile hung wide seeing her grandmother. “Hello!”
“Oh hey baby!” Agnes gushed back, holding her grandchild close around her waist.
Just as excited, Trill put on her brightest smile and asked, “Kelly dear, did you make those for us?”
“Well Mama helped, but I stirred it and poured” Kelly bashfully confessed.
Myrna took a glass in good spirits and said, “Thank you.”
The other ladies took their own glasses and allowed Kelly to go on her way back to the house. But once she arrived at the porch, Myrna called out to her, “Oh! Kelly baby, tell your mother we need her for a sec, okay?”
Quickly, the little girl nodded and retreated back into the house, the screen door rattled when it closed.
Setting aside their drinks, the women set their attentions back to the road, Trill making her comment, “Sweet girl.”
Under her breathe Myrna added, “bitter lemonade.”
“Oh blame her mother,” Agnes assured them, “She never did read the directions.”
Just as if she knew she was spoken about, Ester, Agnes daughter, walked out to the porch. She only leans on the porch’s railing and asked, “What is it mom?”
“Tell us the end of that news report from this morning.”
The other two nodded and agreed, with eagerness and excitement growing back into their veins. There’s just nothing like a good news report.
However, this only made Ester sigh, “Why do you want to know?”
“Ester,” Her mother pressed stern-fully, giving her the hard look that had always made her weak as a child.
“Fine. It turns out they found the bodies chopped into pieces in coolers. The guy was going to send them to his ex-wife.”
“Where did they find him?”
“In some hotel.”
“How did they find him?”
“Mom, I don’t know.” She huffed and went back inside, “You know I hate that gory stuff.”
As the screen door rattled again, Trill questioned, “Has she always been so dramatic?”
“Oh yes,” Agnes guaranteed in all seriousness, but made a conversation changed, “To think…” She huffed, gruffly and ashamed “chopped up into little pieces. Why does everyone have to get so theatrical these days?”
“I know, I know,” Her chin up, Myrna could only agree, “Back in the good old days it was great to hear rumors about it, to hear the whispers. A silent scare to creep in everyone’s ears. It was much sweeter than hearing it blaring off the television like now.”
“It’s not as intimate anymore.”
“And people are so clumsy,” Trill added, “That’s why I always preferred burning bodies.”
“Burning!” Myrna gasped, “But that foul odor!”
“Just don’t be in the room.”
“Not in the room?”
“No.”
After taking a quick sip of the lemonade, Agnes told the girls, “That’s why I liked the wood chipper. And that way I could use what’s left as fertilizer.”
Cheering, Trill gushed and patted Agnes’ back, “Oh dear how resourceful of you.”
“Well, I liked feeding them to the hogs. Saved so much on feed,” Myrna said and peaked suspiciously in the lemonade glass.
“Now that’s a fine idea,” Agnes nodded.
In unison all the girls sighed filled with melancholy of the days that were more than just good. It was bloody good.




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This article has 3 comments. Post your own!

Annerdy said...
Jan. 25, 2011 at 5:37 pm:
I really did like this, but I thought it was kind of predictable (or maybe that could've been because of the title). It didn't build up quite the suspense I hoped for. I like how you created the three old ladies and gave them such distinct personalities; it was easy to imagine them coming to life. The dialogue and imagery flowed effortlessly, so you did a great job with that. Overall, it was a great short story but I just expected a little more "oomph." Keep writing! :]
 
Auburn-M. replied...
Jan. 26, 2011 at 7:28 pm :

Yeah, I could see that. Thank you very much. I'll find a balance someday lol

 

 
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Danny B. said...
Dec. 30, 2010 at 4:10 pm:
This was very good Auburn... a little gory but i liked it
 
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