twisted takes on classic stories. short. possibly not sweet.
It is a truth seldom acknowledged that a greying gentleman not possessed of a fortune must be in want of a wife. This was brought to light most forcibly in a series of events which began quite innocently: the selection of fabric for Sue Lynn’s new dress, and, incidentally (to her father) that for her sister’s dresses as well.
“How that cornflower blue sets off your eyes, my dear,” said Mrs. Martin to her eldest daughter. “It’s such a shame you hide your charms so. If only you could be more like Linda Sue. She never wants for admirers.”
“No, mother. But then, I don’t want admirers.” Sue Lynn’s father made no secret of the admiration he felt for his daughter’s independent spirit. “I suspect Linda Sue has one too many already.”
“And I’ve one too few!” chimed in Lisa, the youngest in the family.
“Never you mind, dearie. The regiment is staying in Meryton for the winter. You’ll have beaux aplenty by spring!” Mrs. Martin was in no hurry to marry off her daughters — as long as it was done before the following summer, that is.
The bell over the door nearly flew from its hook as Aunt Phillips burst in. “You’ll never believe the news! Netherfield is let. And to a dashingly handsome gentleman. They say he has no wife.”
Mrs. Martin fairly clucked like a hen. “Come along girls, come along! We must be off home at once!”
Will Mrs. Martin marry off her daughters? Will Mr. Martin have a bit of peace and quiet? And, what about Naomi? Read the rest to find out.
It was about eleven in the morning, late autumn, the sun not shining, angry clouds bunching up against the hills. Had on my middling yellow suit, dark green shirt and blue tie. I hadn’t had a drink for hours, and it hadn’t been much longer since my last shower and shave. To look at me you’d have thought I was calling on four million dollars.
Since I prefer to skip over the boring parts you wouldn’t read anyway, you’ll next find me leaving Mr. Martin’s study where we’d transacted some business I won’t bore you with, any more than I’d bore his daughter with it.
She thought she’d try to persuade me anyway.
“Excuse me.” I’d made it to the bottom of the steps of their mobile home and thought I was home free when she spoke. Visiting a home filled with single women gives me the willies.
“You’re excused.” Not precisely rude, though I’ll admit it wasn’t precisely polite either.
“Hey!” I didn’t even put my foot the rest of the way down on the crunchy brown grass. Voice like that, you turn on your heel and answer, mister.
“I already said that. We’ve covered it. Perhaps we could enter phase two of this conversation?”
“Oh, this is a conversation. I understand. Shall I come up, or will you come down?” That last because she was still on the landing, holding the door shut so no one would catch her jawing with a guy like me. She had reason to be worried for her reputation, whether she knew it or not.
She chose the latter (coming down.) I regretted it; she was a full inch taller than me. Bare feet, even, and my heels add at least a quarter inch.
“My father’s not made of money.”
“Looked to me like he was made of meat, same as you and me.” That was a mistake. She wasn’t smiling before, but somehow her face made it clear that she’d stopped again, just the same.
Will I solve the mystery? Will I get beat up by this willowy blonde girl? And, what about Naomi? Read the rest to find out.
Fiona-cup was raised in a small suburb in the county of Maricopa. Her favorite pastimes were playing on her computer and hassling her father, though she never called him “Father”, just “Hey!”
“Hey, I’m hungry. Fix me some waffles!”
“Whatever” is all he ever said to her.
“Hey, I’m thirsty. Why isn’t my water bottle full?”
“Hey, it’s cold in here. Turn off the air conditioning!”
One day she was amazed to discover that when he was saying “Whatever” what he really meant was “You are beginning to get on my nerves, young lady, and it’s high time you learned to show a little respect for an old man, what do you think I am, your servant?”
It was a very irritating time for the little girl.
Her father, hoping to find a way to make her happy without going crazy himself, knew he had to find a miracle pill, because after all, it would take a miracle, wouldn’t it?
As he prepared for his trip, she warned him about the ROUSes.
“Readers Of Uninteresting Stories? I don’t believe they exist.” As usual, he was correct.
Will Fiona-Cup finally drive her father mad? Or he her? And, what about Naomi? Finish the story and find out.