Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Here's a message I found scribbled down on a magazine subscription card in a field in Louisville, Georgia. It was signed by Miss Scarlett Walton. I asked local estate owners about her and a Mr. Green told me she is a very Southern Debutante with a thick drawl who comes from a long line of plantation owners. These may have been her final words. No one has seen her since the night she wrote this.

Oh my stars. What on God’s green earth have I done? I can’t even believe what’s happened to me tonight. I was tempted by the sweet nectar of sin. And I bit! I can’t be sure how I even got to this empty field out here in the middle of the night. There ain’t a cow for miles out here! I’ll do my best to tell ya’ll what happened.

Earlier today I walked into my basement only to find my boy Jimmy, my very own child, playing that awful video toy Grand Theft Auto. Oh my lord! How I screamed! I screamed so loud I think a few of my Bibles fell off the shelf! I knew from all the people on the television that that game contained nothing but moonshine and balderdash! “How dare you!” I yelled. “How dare you bring such filth into this home!” Jimmy was so startled he leapt a cat’s tail high and ran right into his room. “No gizzards for you tonight!” I yelled up to him.

For the next hour or two I sat at the kitchen table in a rage. I knew that game was just poison for his young mind. How could he have brought it into our home? When I caught him he was driving a car right over some older gentlemen. “Stop!” I yelled. “That looks like Mr. Green!” You see, Mr. Green is our neighbor. He’s a very nice man, although he is a racist. But Jimmy shouldn’t have been running over anyone. When I went to bed I was so steamed I could hardly get in a wink of sleep.

And then, oh, forgive me, Lord! I was so tempted. Just what was in that game that he wanted so much? It lured me as if the Devil himself were offering a sweet pecan pie. It’s hard for me to admit this, but I got out of bed, put on my corset and laced up my fine midnight gown, and went to the basement to give it a try.

Now please remember this: I did not want to enjoy it. I wished only to discover what Jimmy liked so much. But, I have to say, when I first capped a Middle Eastern man in the knee I felt happiness like I haven’t experienced since Donnie and Marie came to town. Just when I was enjoying the game in silence the door creaked open and Jimmy walked downstairs.

This is where everything gets a bit fuzzy. All I know is that he asked me what I was doing and I yelled, “Nothing!” I was so scared I leapt up and ripped all the cables out of the television set and spilled my fresh homemade sweet tea all over the carpet. And somewhere in there I was so startled that I cancelled my Ladies Home Journal subscription, threw away all of our fresh fruit, and took the car keys and drove out here. I don’t know where I am. I don’t have Heaven’s guess as to how I’ll get back. And I really must find out how to re-subscribe to Ladies Home Journal. I am nothing without my Ladies Home Journal.

1 comment:

rue said...

Miss Scarlett? Really, Matt? Is that the best you can do?