Saturday, April 2, 2016

Why Did You Tell That Lie? (Epilogue)

Hey, everybody! I'm at it again! You know where we left off with Pete gunning his mother's car through a red light on his way to the newspaper office that his mother had just gotten fired from. You do remember that he was livid! Yes, I know you remembered that he had brought a steel bat with him. Let's see what young Pete is up to today, shall we? Oh wait. Where are my manners? How are you doing today? I do hope that you are doing well.

Okay, we come upon the scene with Pete, driving his mom's car. Hold on everybody, we got a curve coming up. I tell you what, if young Pete doesn't slow down, he won't need a steel bat nor anything else. Y'all all in? Good, now buckle up those seat belts! The ride might get just a tad bumpy.

Pete squealed into the parking lot and jumped out of the car with his steel bat in his hand. He took the stairs leading to the press office two steps at a time. When he got  to the top of the stairs, he met the lady that he had privately dubbed as the "Stink stirrer of the newspaper (gossip columnist)" coming out of the press office. Pete gestured with the bat and motioned with his other hand for her to do an about face. When he got her back inside the office, he heard someone say, "Oh, sh__!" Pete gestured for the gossip columnist to sit down at her desk and said, "Take note; you might get something juicy for your column." The gossip columnist sat down at her desk with her eyes bucked and mumbled to herself, "This is gonna be good."

(This is hot from my pen, so to speak. I will keep you abreast of the situation hourly until I finish, okay?)


(Meanwhile, back at home…)

Momma got her brother’s voice mail and left a message asking him to call her back and send up an urgent prayer for Pete, who had taken a steel baseball bat in to her former office to, as he put it, “See a liar about a lie and a bonehead about a bone.”

Bud, who had been telling his mom to hang up all while she was dialing her brother, said “Mom!”

“What are you yelling about William? There is no need to yell. I’m right here.”

Bud said, “Mom, you don’t understand! Pete will kill somebody. He gets crazy when somebody makes you cry.”

Mom said, “I don’t believe you and don’t you ever speak about your brother like that again; you hear me?”

Joe said, “Mom, William is right. Pete will kill somebody for making you cry. We can talk about it in the truck. Right now we have to save Pete.” 

Mom said, “I can’t drive Pete’s truck!”

Bud said, “I can; I’ve seen Pete do it many times.”

 

Bud had trouble getting the engine to start. It kept going dead. Julie started crying. Joe was praying aloud.

Mom yelled at Bud, “William Handlebiz, you get this mangy contraption started and you get it started right now! I don’t intend for some mangy gossiping liar to cause me to lose my oldest son!”

Bud yelled at the old truck, “Listen, you lily-livered son of a flea-bidden gumshoe! You start and you start right now or I will go under your hood and yank some parts and you will be an automatic and run like a top. Do you understand me? One of the troops' own is in trouble.” The truck started like a well-run engine and sputtered a couple of times on the way, but that was it.

 

On the way over to the newspaper, Joe told the story of how Pete had round house kicked Bud and had put his knee on his throat and told him that if he ever made you cry again, he would beat him within an inch of his life. He meant it too, Mom. I had to pull him and his legs trying to get him off of Bud.”

 

Mom said, "Hurry Bud! Can’t you go any faster? Stop crying Julie and start praying;  Joe, go back to praying! Everybody, pray!"
The Handlebiz's were a praying troop that day. When they got to the newspaper office, Mom's car was parked taking up two lanes. The driver's door was open and the engine was still running. Bud let Joe, Julie and Mom off beside Mom's car and parked Pete's truck downslope against the guard rail. He switched the key off  and the truck quit, after a little rattle. He took off at a run and caught up with his mom and the rest of the troop.

(Meanwhile, inside the office...)


Pete said, “Okay, everybody since I have your attention I have an announcement to make.” Nobody moved a muscle. He said while looking at the lady who had backed into the office with him, “Now your job is gossip columnist, is that right?” she nodded her head, “Yes.”

“Did you know that Claudia Braggadocious and her daughter spend every summer living with poor relatives on the east coast so that they can go to all of the ritzy yard and estate sales for clothes and what have you? Did you know that they sell what clothes that they cannot pass off as new and also shop regularly at newly new shops so that her prating-long-necked fake daughter can come back home here and try to high and mighty it over the women and girls of this town? Did you get that GC?”

“I got every last word of it.”

 A lady in the back stood up and said, “I don’t really think that is any of my business, so please excuse me,” and started to walk toward the back room.

She had taken two steps when Pete brought the steel bat down on top of the conference table with a wham and roared, “Sit down all of you!”  The lady scrambled back to her seat and stayed there. Somebody said from the back, “I aint taking this for the likes of Claudia Braggadocious. Yeah, she typed on your mother’s computer because I came back in the office for something I had forgotten and I saw her typing there. The light was on in your Mom’s cubicle and I was going to turn it off but I saw Claudia typing there and eased on back out. I did wonder what all of the hullabaloo was about. I got back to the office thirty minutes ago and have spent that time typing what I saw on an email to Mr. Bonegrab.” He’s out of the office right now, so he may not have had time to read it.”

 Somebody piped up and said, “He is back in his office from lunch now because I heard his personal door chime.”

 Just then, Mr. Bonegrab’s inner office door opened and he stepped through demanding what in thunderation was going on?

At the same time, the outer office door opened and the rest of the Handlebiz’s poured into the office. Bud said, “Pete, are you alright?”

Momma said, “Son, let me handle it. You are only a sixteen-year-old.”
 Pete responded to his mom, “Mom, you don’t know how I wish that were true.”

 The Boss said,  “For the love of Pete, will somebody tell me what in blue blazes is going on and why she (referring to Pete’s mom) is in here.”
Claudia stood up and said, “I didn’t mean no harm. I was only funning a bit. I never meant to send it and I did not put your mother’s name on it. It was all in fun.”
The same reporter from the back said, “Another lie. You know good and well that when an email is typed on any computer in this office it attaches the name of the person whose work station that is. Please “Princess” Claudia, don’t insult us.”
The lady who had wanted to leave earlier yelled out, “You need to check your email from the last thirty minutes, Mr. ‘B.’”

Mr. Bonegrab said to Pete, “It seems that I made a hasty judgment without looking into all of the facts. Please let’s go into my office and discuss this in private. There has been enough damage done today. Pete, I owe your mother and the rest of your family an apology and I would like to make it up to you. If you would be man enough to take your family into my office, I will be there shortly. There is some trash here that I have to dispose of.”
 
Well, readers, Pete was saved from ruining his life and all seems to be well. We will do a poem and wrap-up on tomorrow or Monday.
 
Doing What I Can, While I Can,
Alma Jones

 






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