by Marie Davis & Margaret J. Hults
In such a dreary mood, it made perfect sense to the handywoman that one bad thing after another should happen. Today she needed a good dose of Tootle. Tootle understood how nasty life could be and had given up years ago trying to protect herself. Instead, Tootle spread her arms to chance, with the full understanding that the odds were not only against her, but betting against her.
“Hi Tootle . . . ” Lil grimaced, walking into the bar and swiveling onto a stool. “I’ve been thinking about my life. Don’t you wish you could remember your very first day, when all you had to have were ten fingers and ten toes to be successful? What a great day! Every day after that we’re all expected to perform—suckle, rollover, sit up, walk, make good grades, go to college, buy a house, get a 401k—blah, blah, blah . . . ”
Tootle smelled something awful. She discreetly covered her nose a tad, “Hon! What happened to you? You look sick.”
Lil ordered bourbon and groaned. “It’s chiggers. I got them cleaning up a homeowner’s vacant lot yesterday. Shit they itch!” Hundreds of small round welts dotted her face and arms. The handywoman grabbed her drink with both hands and white knuckled it until the urge to scratch subsided.
Chiggers are spiteful, infinitesimal parasites that live in tall grassy areas, and are dreadfully active in the summertime. The bugs attack their prey by burying into their flesh, where they live and continue to eat on the skin for seven days. Chiggers are indestructible. In the next thousand years, all cows may find emancipation, countries will collapse, tall buildings razed, and families may eventually learn how to get along, but chiggers will be the same.
In the center of a puffy, red chigger bite, you can actually see the critter set up its tip-of-a-pin sized housekeeping. With a microscope, the infested can tour its kitchen, complete with a chic dining table arranged with an elegant set of silver and china. There is no need for groceries. Dinner, my friend, is on you. No amount of salve, bathing or pinching can get rid of them. God gave chiggers seven full days of dining and they are sticking to the contract. After that time, even though they may have become friendly, the insects die and fall out.
“Chiggers? Yuck! Lil, have you seen a doctor about all those bites?” The barkeep tried to breathe through her mouth.
“Yeah, she gave me some steroids, but really there’s nothing to do but wait them out. Oh yeah, she also gave me some great advice. ‘Don’t scratch them or they could become infected.’ I know I shouldn’t scratch them, but sometimes I really can’t help it. I’ll give one spot a good thrashing. Just what is it about an itch that when finally scratched is almost orgasmic?”
Tootle moved her stool away a scooch. “You poor thing. I wish I could help.” Tootle lied.
“Take a few of these bites for me, will ya?”
Sarcastically, the barkeep replied, “I’m not about to wish that hard.”
“Wishes?” Lil frowned and shook her head, “Life must think I’m masochistic, everything is going wrong. Two days ago my house caught fire.”
“ON FIRE!?” Tootle’s eyes started to sting. What is that smell? She discreetly scooted further away.
“Oh, fucking yes! I was throwing Ambrosia a bridal shower. I suppose she and Roger really are going to tie the knot. Anyhow, I had the house all fancied up for the shower, kitschy tissue paper wedding crap everywhere. My God! Little brides and grooms, accordion-style wedding bells, pink fucking puffy fucking hearts, all hanging on streamers taped to the ceiling. It was all junk Ambrosia wanted.”
Casually covering her nose, Tootle winked and said, “Wow! Sounds like so much fun. Sorry I couldn’t make it. I ran into an old flame I couldn’t say no to, if you know what I mean?”
“Speaking of fucking flames! Damned if Ambrosia didn’t knock over a candle on the buffet table. A streamer caught on fire and so did the little paper bride and groom hanging from it. Ambrosia started bawling, ‘My happy little couple, my happy little couple.’” Lil imitated the drag queen, dropping her wrist and batting her eyes.
Tootle was thinking, What was that smell?
Lil kept rambling, “That crazy bitch caused such a ruckus that none of us noticed the pile of bridal gifts on fire. By the time we realized it, I had a lingerie and honeymoon novelties bonfire right in my damn living room!”
“NO?!” Tootle cinched her lips and tried not to laugh—or breathe. “Did you get the fire put out quickly? Is your house okay?”
“That depends on what you mean as okay. Before a dildo melted completely into my carpet, its profile burned onto my new wallpaper like the Shroud of Turin. And now my new carpet has a permanent pool of melted novelties.”
The barkeep exploded into cackles, then immediately began to ask forgiveness for her jolly.
“Oh wait Tootle, it doesn’t end there. On my way here, I broadsided some road-kill, which normally I would feel bad about, except the bloated raccoon exploded when I hit it. Of course, I had to have my window down.” Lil pulled some fur and guts from her ear.
Gagging, Tootle moved down two barstools.
Lil continued, “I know after work I should have gone home, but I need some liquid relief. When is all this shit gonna stop? I feel like I ought to run right outside, break my leg, and beat God to the next punch line in my life.”
“Aw, hon,” Tootle said, still trying to breathe through her mouth.
Twenty minutes later, Lil was soothing some of her welts with a moist bar towel when Ambrosia walked in. The drag queen yipped, “HELLO LADIES! Guess who’s been shopping for bridal fabrics all day? My goodness! How we blushing brides suffer!”
She was swishing a jumbo lace-edged hankie decorated with a picture of Roger. Of course, she had crayoned a blindfold over her fiancé’s eyes. Apparently, it’s bad luck for a photo of the groom to see his bride shopping for wedding gown fabrics. Ambrosia waltzed around the room dancing with her betrothed hankie, humming Moon River.
Tootle quipped, “Gal, the only way you are going to be a blushing bride is with the help of Maybelline or Max Factor.”
Ambrosia swatted at Tootle with her hankie. Then turning to Lil, she jumped back, “What has happened to you!?”
Lil scowled, “Don’t ask.”
A pungent perfume of shopping mall cheesy fries and diet pills wafted off the drag queen; brides do suffer. Yet, even that wretched fragrance couldn’t out-stink bloated roadkill. Waving her hand in front of her nose, Ambrosia asked, “Have you suddenly acquired an allergic reaction to soap and water?”
Tootle growled, “Let her have a drink in peace. She’s had a tough few days,”
Ambrosia swatted her hankie at Lil, “I know, and what about my gifts you destroyed?”
The handywoman protested, “YOU knocked over the candle.”
Ambrosia shook her finger, “It happened in your home! You should have been more careful with my gifts. It should have been safer.”
Lil opened her mouth to continue the argument when in walked the redhead.
That was it. Veronica was the last person Lil wanted to see when she was polka-dotted with chiggers and stinking like dead raccoon. The handywoman should have known. It got worse. Veronica was with a date. Not only did the beautiful redhead notice Lil’s spots, she also got a big whiff of rotted, raccoon pew. Lil was mortified. Veronica and her date did not speak, but covered their noses while making a wide berth around Lil on their way to a seat in the back booth.
Lil thought, I can suffer plague and pestilence from the Lord, but please God, NOT humiliation in front of Veronica. Commiserating, her phantom fingers popped up and out of pity tried to scratch some of her bug bites.
Lil uttered, “I’m going home.”
“Don’t go. Have another drink. I’ll tell you all about the sewing notions I bought today. Fluffy faux feathers! Can’t you see this body draped in exotic real faux feathers?” The drag queen ran her long nails down her shapely bosom and padded hips.
“Exotic, real faux feathers? Ambrosia, faux means—oh, never mind. I’m going home, walk out with me.”
On the way to the road kill splattered truck, the drag queen implored, “Stay! Have a couple of drinks with me. Roger will be by later. I’ll get him to pick up our bar tab.”
Lil moaned, “Did you see Veronica? She totally ignored me and she’s here on a date with some other woman. My girl is here, with the wrong woman.”
“HER? It’s about that damn trashy redhead again! I’m sure it’s nothing. Pleassseeee . . . stay a little longer.”
Heartbroken, Lil said glumly, “There is not enough bourbon in the world to make me stay.”
After getting back to the house, she took a long shower and put on her most comfortable pair of pajamas. When she looked at the bed, it seemed too big and too empty. Bypassing the melted plastic puddle on her living room carpet, Lil brushed soot off two throw pillows and settled in for a somewhat uncomfortable night’s sleep on the couch. The chiggers on the other hand, were not tired. They had a pajama party, slamming back beers and munching on the wretched handywoman for hours. However, there is a good side to most everything. The chigger-beer-belch stench somewhat covered up the burnt-honeymoon-novelties aroma.
Lil fell quickly asleep. In her dream, she was bare bottomed, seven months old and soaring through the clouds. She flew among a flock of ice cream sandwiches. The sun lounged on the bright blue sky stretching its warm rays. All the ice cream sandwiches smiled. Lil giggled. Meeting up with a dozen blue jays, the chatty birds invited her to high tea.
She picnicked on the crest of a cloud, sipping tea from a porcelain cup. Blue jays, ice cream sandwiches, and baby Lil nibbled on buttered scones and cucumber sandwiches. Breezes provided the afternoon’s entertainment. Nearly finishing the meal, Lil looked to the east. Floating toward her was a beautiful woman, wearing nothing but gingham panties. As the seductress moved closer, Lil could see her long red hair cupping her breasts. Enchanting chocolate eyes drew Lil close. The air smelled of wild clover honey. Lil puckered for a kiss.
KABOOM!
An angry gray cloud thundered in from the west.
KABOOM!
The cloud threw lightning bolts and thunder at the picnickers while spitting stinging pellets of hail. The honeyed woman disappeared. Lil cried. Ice cream sandwiches raced away. Blue jays tried to stand ground, but fled when more angry clouds came over the horizon. One by one, each bird departed kissing Lil on the forehead for good luck. Baby Lil, left alone to fend off the terrible storm, stood up teetering on unsteady legs. Revolted, a bolt of lightning smacked her feet. Lil tumbled end over end towards the ground.
SLAM!
She fell off the couch.