“My rain galoshes may look older than Methuselah, but they caught your dad!” Laurie told her children, Rachel, Sarah and Trevor. They were mesmerized.
Mama squeaked trying to hold her breath while changing Trevor’s loaded diaper. Sarah fidgeted to keep from laughing. They knew their mother had grown up poor but didn’t know what poor looked like. Mama could see that realism was sinking in. “These boots helped catch your father.” Mama went on “While running to the store, it started to rain and my feet got soaked. In my path was Daddy, fixing his old bicycle with duct tape.”
Katy entered the dimly lit shop with trepidation. In the corner was a basket of kittens. Putting her glasses on she noticed there were drawers filled with animal hair, crushed bugs, a one gallon milk jug of Sloth Juice, Life Blood, glass jars of assorted spiders (poisonous and non-poisonous), a glowing green leather book, rows of filing cabinets and barrels on the floor labeled Finger of Toads, Remedies for the Lonely, Kitty Treats, assorted foul aromas, and a container labeled Incantation and Spell books were alphabetically shelved behind the counter. A grin slowly took root when she read a bulletin marked “Satisfied Customers.”
“How can I help you dearie?” a high pitched voice asked.
Katy looked into the kind eyes of an old woman dressed in black. “Yes Ma’am. I need help with . . . well, a personal matter.”
Wilbur Thompson rested there for over an hour reminiscing about the childhood fishing cabin he and his father had built sixty years earlier. “Where had all the time gone? Heck, where did all the water go?” With a sigh of longing he said “Damn dam!”
For years he had told his wife what it looked like and the fish they would catch together. Afterwards, they would take the fish home and Mama would fry it up with cornmeal on their potbellied stove. “ I wish someone could bring this place back to life!”