Tag Archives: tall tales

JUST ANOTHER BORING MORNING IN MAYBERRY

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     Monday was an ordinary day like any other. I woke up early and lay in my bed for another twenty minutes or so. And then, I finally managed to gather enough energy to drag myself out of bed and throw my legs over the side. I slowly walked over to my bedroom window and gazed out across our yard and at my neighbor’s front yard. Suddenly, I heard a weird sound, and It sounded like a high-pitched moaning.

I couldn’t see what was causing the ruckus, so I opened my window even further and hung out as far as I could. My heart was beating like a snare drum. I could hear my heartbeat wildly. I felt somewhat lightheaded, and I feared I might pass out. or accidentally fall out of my window. I felt sick to my stomach. I have a tendency to be somewhat of a drama queen. At least, that is what my mother always says about me. I am afraid of everything, including bugs, snakes, mice, and big dogs. You name it, and I’m afraid of it. 

Ever so slowly, I pulled myself back into my bedroom window and flopped down on my unmade bed. I lay there until I felt my heart beating normally, and I was breathing in and out, in and out. And my head stopped spinning. Sometimes, I have the feeling that I must be one of the most neurotic people in the world. In my mind, every little thing can become a catastrophe.

I decided to go downstairs and out my front door to see what the heck was going on. As I exited my front door, I heard one of my neighbors scream stop, stop, stop, my son is in that coach. I thought, what in the world is going on? So, against my better judgment, I ran out the door in my pajamas and across my front yard to the curb where my neighbor, Mrs. Rice, was yelling, “Stop, stop, stop. For the love of god, stop.”

I screamed at the top of my lungs, “What’s going on, Mrs. Rice?” And she said, “ Oh, Jennifer, my son was sleeping in his coach, and I turned my back for a moment because I heard my husband calling me.” And when I turned back around, my baby was gone. And the car that was parked next to it was driving down the street like a maniac.

“Mrs. Rice, “call the police, call the police.” And she did. She was yelling on the phone that someone who was driving a lime green pickup truck grabbed her baby out of his coach when she turned her back for a moment. That she only looked away for a moment to pick up his bottle. That she had dropped out of the coach accidentally.

She described the man driving the vehicle. He looked middle-aged and had a balding head and a mustache. And he was smoking a big cigar. His car looked like it had seen better days. And it looked as if it had been used for target practice. It had bullet holes on it on the front hood and the back window. The car was headed toward Fork Landing Road at a high rate of speed toward Route 38. Then she told the police her address. She explained where she was standing on the sidewalk next to the street, and “Please hurry.’

I stood next to her and held her hand because she had begun crying her eyes out. And she kept saying over and over, “Oh please bring back my baby, please bring back my baby.” The police finally arrived about fifteen minutes later. One of the police cruisers came down the street and pulled up next to the curb where we were standing. What looked like a giant got out of the police car and said, “ Mrs. Rice? I’m Officer Brown. One of my officers has cited the car that you described. And no doubt he will be able to stop the car and retrieve your son as quickly and safely as possible. Please calm down.

And then he looked down at me, “Well, was that your brother that the man took? “No, I only have a little sister. She’s a pest. She’s in my house watching cartoons. I saw this Mrs. Rice out here screaming and crying, “Stop, stop, stop.” And she told me that someone had grabbed her baby. And that he drove away in a car. And I told her to “Call the police.”

“Well, that was a good thing for you to do. Otherwise, the stranger could get far, far away.”

I looked at the police officer and smiled, and I thought, maybe someday I could become a police officer and save someone’s life.

The police officer said, “Hold on I’m getting a call from the officer that is chasing the get-a-way car.”

I looked at Mrs. Rice. Her face was pale but had big blotches of red all over it. She looked as if she was going to be sick to her stomach any minute. I took her hand again. It was all sweaty, but I didn’t let go of it until I heard another officer speaking to Officer Brown on his walky-talky. At least, that’s what I think they are called. And then he hung up. And looked at Mrs. Rice right in the face and said,” Good news. The kidnapper has been apprehended, and Officer McMullen is bringing your baby back. And he is perfectly fine and slept through the whole ordeal. They’ll be here any minute.”

And then Mrs. Rice started crying again. Big tears ran down her face. I couldn’t figure out why she started crying again. But I squeezed her hand and said, “Now, now, it’s going to be alright.” My mother always says that to me when I’m upset. And for some reason, she cried even harder. The officer looked at me and said, “You did a good thing telling her to call the police and staying with her until she got her baby back.

“Oh, here comes the squad car. Everything will be alright. You will need to come to the police headquarters first thing tomorrow to make a statement. Can you do that?”

Mrs. Rice shook her head up and down, and tears continued running down her cheeks and onto her coat. A moment later, another police car turned onto our street and slowly drove next to the curb where we were all standing. After parking the police car, the officer came out of his driver’s seat. He swung open the door, and we could see a baby that was lying in a blanket with a seat belt across it. The baby woke up and started screaming at the top of his lungs. Mrs. Rice reached in and picked up her baby, and tears rolled down her cheeks again. But, in that exact moment, a smile appeared across her face. “Thank you, officers, for saving my baby. I will be at the police station first thing tomorrow morning. And thank you so much.

“You’re welcome mam. I’m happy that everything turned out alright. It’s good that you kept calm and that you called the police right after it happened. Mrs. Rice still had tears running down her face, but a smile was on her face. Too. She said, “Thank you again, Jennifer, you saved the day.” What? No, I didn’t do anything. I just happened to be here right after it happened. The police were the heroes. I’m glad everything turned out alright. I have to be going now, I’m going to be late. Jennifer didn’t really have any place she had to be. She just felt uncomfortable getting all that attention. She wasn’t even going to mention anything to her Mom. She would make a big deal about it even though she knew that Jennifer didn’t like to be the center of attention.

Jennifer was about to head home when she saw what appeared to be a small dog or puppy running out into the street. Jennifer looked toward the house where the dog came from and didn’t see anybody outside looking for the puppy. But, the door was wide open. For a moment, she considered continuing on her way. But then she saw a car coming down the street in the direction of the puppy. So, she ran as fast as she could, grabbed the puppy, and ran out of the street to the sidewalk. She was slightly out of breath, and the puppy was whining and squirming in her arms. And she almost dropped him. “Good grief, puppy,  hold still. I’ll take you back home where you’ll be safe.

So Jennifer carried the puppy back to the house that the puppy came out of and yelled into the front door of the house that the puppy came out of a few moments ago. “Hello, hello, is anyone home? I found your puppy running across the street. And then she yelled as loud as she could,” HELLO, HELLO, ANYBODY HOME?”

After what seemed a long, long time, she saw an old lady walk towards her from the back of the house. She said, “Can I help you, young lady?”

Jennifer said, “I was across the street, and your puppy ran outside into the street because the front door was wide open. So, I grabbed her and brought her back here. The old woman said,” Oh my, thank you so much. I must have forgotten to close the door after I got my mail. Sometimes I get forgetful. Thank you so much. I am puppy-sitting this week for my granddaughter. She went on vacation with some friends of hers. She is supposed to come back today. Oh, she would have been so upset if something happened to Arnold. Jennifer stared at the woman and said, “Oh? Whose Arnold?” That’s the dog’s name, Arnold. Thanks so much. Would you like to come in and have a piece of cake? I just took it out of the oven. That’s why I was preoccupied. And I’ll give you a big, cold glass of milk. What do you say?”

“Well, I would love that, but I’m not supposed to go into strangers’ houses.”

“Of course, you’re not. How thoughtless of me. How about I cut you a piece, and you can take it home with you and eat it after you eat lunch?”
“Yes, I would love that. I hope it’s a chocolate cake. That’s my favorite.”

“It is chocolate cake. This is your lucky day. Wait here. I’ll take the puppy and be right back. I’m going to put him in the front bedroom for a little while. Maybe he’ll take a nap. He has way too much energy for me to keep up with him. A couple of minutes later, the old woman slowly returned to her front door. I’m sorry for being so rude. I didn’t even ask what your name is.

“Oh, that’s OK. My name is Jennifer. I live down the street. I’m going to save this cake for after lunch because my mother doesn’t like me to eat sweets until after lunch. It looks delicious, and chocolate is my favorite.”

“Well, Jennifer, thank you for saving the puppy. Please feel free to stop by for a visit anytime. I would love to have you visit once in a while.”

“ Really, I would like to visit sometime too. I hardly ever see my grandmom.” Jennifer continued her walk down the street, wondering what was going to happen next. She couldn’t wait until dinner to tell her family about all her adventures today. In fact, every day, something interesting or exciting happens to Jennifer. And she would come home at lunch or dinner and share her exciting experiences. But nobody in her family believed her stories. They thought she just had an active imagination. But Jennifer didn’t make things up. She was sure her family wouldn’t believe her this time either.

Sure enough, when Jennifer’s mother called her to come home for dinner, and after everyone sat down to eat, Jennifer began telling of her adventures that day and how she was a heroine. But, once again, no one believed her. That is until the next day when their local newspaper arrived early that morning. And on the first page of the World News and Daily Report, which was the name of their local small-town newspaper. There was a story on the first page relating to Jennifer’s experiences helping save the baby and the puppy.

Jennifer’s family was flabbergasted. But they all stood up and clapped for her heroism. And Jennifer was so happy and proud that she almost started crying. Her mother gave her a big hug and said, “You’re a hero. We are so proud of you. Jennifer blushed and bowed and said, “I can’t wait to tell you what happened today.” her family all grew as one, and then they laughed when the first words out of her mouth were, “Well, first of all, I saw an eight-foot-tall man getting an icecream at the Custard Stand and then I saw an old man riding a unicycle down Main Street.”
Her whole family laughed, and then they clapped. One thing is for sure: there was never a dull moment in their house when Jennifer was around. And they all gave her a big hug.

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THE EARLY BIRDS GETS THE WORM

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As far back as I can remember my family has been telling me that I let my imagination run away with me. One family member actually had the audacity to tell me I was full of malarkey.

As a child, I would come home after playing outside with my friends and as soon as everyone was seated at the dinner table I would regale them with the adventures I experienced that day.

I always begin by saying, “wow you won’t believe what happened to me today.”

And then one night at the dinner table my oldest siblings said, “oh no, here she goes again with one of her wild stories. Mom, can’t you tell her to shut up? We can never eat in peace. You know she is full of bologna. There is no way that one person could have some crazy thing happen to them every single day of their life.

The weirdest thing that happened to me today is that my boss at Acme didn’t fire me. After I forgot to bring in the dairy delivery immediately after it arrived. He’s fires people for smaller mistakes. I consider it almost a miracle that I still have a job. But you don’t hear me telling you every night what awesome or strange thing happened to me every day do you?”

“Larry does not use that kind of language at the dinner table. And leave Sandy alone. She’s not doing any harm. She just has an active imagination. That’s all. She’s a very creative kid with a big imagination. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Yeah, imagination, sure. If anyone of the rest of us told so many lies, we would never hear the end of it.”

“He’s right Mom. You do favor her. She gets away with murder.”

“That’s enough Libby. How about we all just eat out dinner quietly.’

As a result, I never did get to tell them what happened to me. Every time I tried to bring it up. Someone would tell me to shut up, And my mother would say, “you are not allowed to say shut up in this house.

“Maybe I should start at the beginning. After I got out of school that day, I ran home. So that I could change out of my school uniform and into my play clothes. And then I ran over to my best friend’s house down the street. I banged on her front door. No one answered.

I banged and banged at the door for at least twenty minutes. I was about to give up and then I saw someone at the front window. She looked like a witch. Her hair was standing up in every direction. Her face had something sticky smeared across it. All the way up to her hairline. At first, I thought it was blood. The longer I looked I realized it was some kind of food on her face, maybe jelly. The window was half-opened she screamed out the opening, “help, help me they are keeping me, prisoner, here. Help, help, help.”

At first, I thought I better run away. She‘s some kind of witch, She‘s going to eat me. But then I saw tears slowly running down her face from her red, bloodshot eyes and down her wrinkled cheeks. And she kept wiping them away with the back of her hand. This further spread the jelly or whatever it was across her face. There seemed no end to her tears. I ran up to the front garden under the window and yelled up at her, “are you alright? Are you hurt? Do you want me to call the police?” She continued to moan and cry, “help me, help me.”

I decided to try getting into the house through the screen porch at the back of the house. My friend, Jilly lived there. But it didn’t seem like anyone else was home but this old lady. Jilly had told me that they never locked the back porch in case one of them got locked out of the house by mistake.

So I pushed it open and ran over to the kitchen door. I turned the knob and I was in. I stepped into the kitchen it smelled like pizza like it always does. My best friend‘s family is Italian and they eat spaghetti or lasagna or pizza almost every night. It always smells delicious in their kitchen. I called out, “Hello, hello where are you?” I could hear her crying from the living room. I yelled out, “hello it’s me, Sandy.”

Nobody answered me. So, I just walked quietly into the living room. I didn’t want to scare her. “Hi, it’s me, Sandy.” I saw her still looking out the living room window. I tiptoed up to her and said, “hi, I’m here. She screamed at the top of her lungs. I let out a scream myself. ” Good grief, you scared me half to death. Where is everyone? Why are you all alone? Where’s Jilly?”

She said, ” they left me all alone. They are keeping me a prisoner. They won’t let me out.”

I said, “let’s sit down in the kitchen. I know let’s eat a cookie. I saw some on the counter when I walked through there. Do you want a cookie?” She smiled for the first time.

“Yes, cookie, I want a cookie.”

I helped her sit down and pushed her chair in. We both sat quietly and ate the chocolate chip cookies. And then I said, “are you Jilly’s grandmother?”

“Yes. I’m a grandmother.”

“Are you living here now?”
“Yes, I’m living here. They left me all alone. I was taking a nap and when I woke up, they were gone. I was scared and lonely and all by myself.”

“Well, I‘ll stay here until they come home. Would you like that?”

“Yes, stay. I’m scared.”

We sat and ate our cookies for a while and I ask her what’s your name? She said, “my name is Alma. I came here a long time ago. I’m from Italy. We landed in New York City at the Statue of Liberty in 1905. We lived in Camden, New Jersey for many years. My husband was a tailor and he made suits for men. I had twelve children. They are all grown up and have children of their own. And some of their children have children. My husband died and now I’m all alone.”

“You’re not alone Alma. You live with your son, daughter-in-law, and two grandchildren. And now you have me, I’ll be your friend and I’ll come to visit you anytime you want me to. Maybe we could take a walk around the garden in the backyard. And there’s a big swing hanging from the Willow Tree that we could take a ride on. What do you say?”

“Yes, I say let’s take some cookies outside too. I love cookies.”

“Really I love cookies and candy. Next time I come over I’ll bring some cookies that my mom made. They’re oatmeal raisin. They are so yummy.”

Alma had a big smile across her face. And that’s when I saw Alma didn’t have any teeth. And I wondered how she could chew the cookies. I handed her two of the cookies and we sat down on the couch that was on the back porch. She finished her cookies before I did.

“Good, they’re good cookies. Give me more.”

“Maybe next time, I don’t want you to get sick.”

She smiled at me. And that’s when I heard my friend Jilly’s car drive up. It was an old car and it made a lot of noise. I said, “Alma your family is home. Do you want to go back into the house?”

She said, ‘no, I like it out here. It’s nice and there are a lot of birds and flowers. I used to have a garden when I lived in Camden in the front yard. I had all different kinds of roses. And we had a grapevine and my husband used to make his own wine. I miss that.”

“Maybe your son would let you have a garden here. And then you could go outside in the fresh air and not be stuck in the house all the time.”

“Yes, I would love to have a garden again. Let’s do that.”

And then I thought, oh no, I shouldn’t have told her that. Maybe they’ll say no. And then she’ll be sad again. “Alma, stay here. I’m going to run around front and tell them we are out on the porch. So, they won’t worry. I’ll be right back. Stay here.”

I ran out front and Jilly’s father said, “what are you doing here? Why are you here all the time?”

My friend Jilly’s father was a grouch, just like my father. I ignored what he said. And I said, “I was visiting Alma I heard her crying when I was knocking at the front door. And we were sitting on the back porch eating cookies. I told her I would bring her some of my mother’s cookies the next time I come over.”
“How did you get in the house Sandy?”

“I came in the back porch. Jilly told me it is always unlocked. And your mother and I were visiting on the porch and eating cookies. She said she wants to have a garden in the backyard. She loves flowers and grapes.”

“She did, she’s done nothing but cry since she got here. OK, let’s go see her on the back porch. We all marched around the yard to the backyard. Alma was sitting there quietly looking at the backyard. “Hello, Sandy said I could have a garden and work in the backyard.”

“She did Mom. That sounds like a great idea.”

And Sandy said, “she will come over and help me.”

“Well Mom, that sounds like a fine idea. And maybe Jilly can help you as well.”

And that is when I saw the most beautiful toothless smile appear on Grandmother’s face. That’s what she told me to call her, Grandmother. I never had a grandmother before. So, at least once a week I go over and help grandmother in the garden. And she tells me all kinds of stories about the olden days when she was growing up in Italy.

And that is how I made my second best, Alma. At least once or twice a week I go over to Jilly’s house and sit on the back porch and eat oatmeal raisin cookies with cold milk. And sometimes we go in the yard and work in the garden. I’m in charge of any worms we find. Because Alma is afraid of snakes. I keep telling her that these are just little worms but she doesn’t believe me.

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