by Jack Swenson
We are watching the ladies perform a miracle. We are pulling for them. We believe they can do it. They are going to fry an egg with no heat. They stand on a riser at the front of the room. They wave their hands. They speak in tongues.
One of the ladies is young and pretty. Her blonde hair is tied back in a bun. She cracks an egg into a frying pan and sets the pan on a card table. A crone dressed in black pours liquid from a bottle onto the egg. Whiskey. Gasp! The egg cooks before our eyes! The runny stuff turns white!
We look at each other. Bobby's mouth is open. Lulu looks like she is going to cry. “That's what happens to your stomach when you drink al-co-hol,” the crone intones.
There is a restless shuffling in the room. The WCTU ladies pass out cards. We eagerly take the pledge. Never, never in all our lives will we take a drink of alcohol! The blonde lady smiles at us she collects the cards. We smile back. The Sunday School Superintendent wants to know how many of us signed the cards. “Raise your hands,” she says. She is smiling, too. She is confident that the vote will be unanimous.
Oh oh. It isn't. Pete Moen stands there with his hands in his pockets. He looks at the floor. All eyes are on Pete. The Superintendent is a short lady as wide as she is tall. She scowls, then brightens. “Oh, well,” she says. “Pete, you can sign it later if you change your mind.”
Of course I tell my parents about Pete's disgraceful behavior. My mother is indignant. She frowns. ”Tsk, tsk,” she says. My father is undismayed. He grins his little grin. Pete's dad and my dad are friends. They hunt ducks together. My father reminds my mother that after all Elmer Moen owns a liquor store. “Even so…,” my mother says.
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A history lesson for all you young scribblers....
No TV, no cartoons on Sunday morning for kids in the old days.
Even so ... indeed.
I remember The Pioneers, men in the Catholic Church who took a vow of abstinence from alcohol in any form. They always sat together, Irish fellas, they were, and a thoroughly grim assembly.
fave
Poor Pete, caught between commerce and the WCTU. fave
I'd like to echo MaryAnne [again]. My husband's uncle is tee total, has been all his life, and he's always got a twinkle in his eye and kindness in his voice. But I've known a few sour old sods too. I doubt the temperance and temperament were linked. Great nugget of a story. Was it inspired by a tot of rum? Fave
That pledge is brutal and, might I suggest, inhumane. Another great one, Jack.
James, I never knew catholics abstained - what is in those little cups they drink from at mass?
Good story Jack
Well written, Jack.
"Oh oh. It isn't. Pete Moen stands there with his hands in his pockets. He looks at the floor. All eyes are on Pete."
Nice work.
Like the Dad's knowing grin at the end. Save me from those holy rollers. Cheers, Jack.*
Good story, excellent writing. Who needs TV or cartoons when they can have whiskey fried eggs and beer-batter pancakes for breakfast on a Sunday morning? The crone dressed in black should give it a try.
Funny story, totally believable in form and dialogue, loved the temperance ladies!
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i like this piece. it has a particular time-period feel to it, but i can't quite place it because i keep changing the outfit the temperance lady is wearing in my mind. which is fun. nicely played piece, good sir.
You did a good job putting this together, folding and unfolding. You took us somewhere, and it was a very enjoyable ride. *
Three cheers for apostasy!
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Hilarious, awesome, favorite. Ok, gotta go play Wii now.
Good story.*