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Authors: Pat G'Orge-Walker

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BOOK: No Ordinary Noel
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Chapter 16
T
he effects of Thanksgiving on the Pelzer senior citizenry became twofold. Full stomachs and empty pockets put a deep dent in what they'd spend for the Seniors Prom, but they didn't care. Many were born broke and expected to meet St. Peter with an IOU in their hands.
If anyone gave an award for putting on a cheap event, the Seniors Prom would bring home the gold.
Although it wasn't scheduled to start until around eight o'clock, most seniors got a head start on losing their minds. The idea of reliving days gone by put pep in their steps, larceny in their hearts, and additional delusions in their heads.
A THROWBACK SENIORS PROM
, the flyer read.
COME DRESSED THE WAY YOU ONCE WORKED IT
.
Sister Betty was the one holdout when it came time to hand out the fliers. She questioned the wisdom of telling seniors to dress How they once worked it. “Most of them can't even find
it,
” she warned.
Of course, whatever
it
was didn't matter because
it
was surely a mess at that stage of life. However, there was always more mess to spread.
In all their planning, the things none of the four discussed were transportation for themselves and a fearless escort. Not having to worry about transportation might've set well with Elder Batty Brick and Brother Casanova, but Bea and Sasha weren't going to show up without a prom date. And they had the same plan in mind to solve their dilemma.
Publicly they talked the man down, but secretly Bea and Sasha had each set Trustee Noel in their sights. Neither mentioned to the other any inclination toward dealing with the man. Neither trusted the other to keep away from the embarrassed, but still rich, Trustee Noel. Both were determined to track him down.
Bea found him first. She figured since he'd missed the final meeting he'd want to make sure he had everything prepared to hang coats. She didn't know if he'd made other plans regarding that particular assignment, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was downstairs in the fellowship hall.
Bea stood in the doorway, blocking his exit. “Praise His mighty name,” she whispered softly, but loud enough to get his attention. “I had no idea when I came by to drop off my box of handwritten T-shirts that ya be here.”
Trustee Noel turned around and couldn't believe his eyes. There stood Bea looking at him much like he imagined a female praying mantis would look at her victim. He'd never played football although he enjoyed the game. When he saw Bea blocking the doorway, he couldn't think of one tackle to move her out of bounds that wasn't a foul.
Believing she had control of the situation and him, Bea threw the box of T-shirts onto a nearby table. She hurried and recited her menu of love. Since the prom started in a few hours, she didn't have time to lay all her sexiness out there.
“How are you, Bea? I didn't know you were here. I was on my way out and I-I-I . . .” He blubbered like a fool and his hand shot up to his head and yanked on that sprig.
“Now Trustee Noel, I can't speak for some of these other heathen members, but I sho' appreciate how you want to help out the church.”
Bea's legs widened as she stood in the hall's doorway, hoping to block him from leaving. “I'm taking it upon myself to show you just how much the Mothers Board loves and appreciates all that you're gonna do. After you take me to the prom,” Bea said, running her tongue over her thick purple lips, “I want ya to come back to my home. Waiting for ya in the bedroom is gonna be candied yams, baked macaroni and cheese, ham and potato salad with collards tender enough to melt in yo mouth. I make a red velvet cake that will raise the dead—”
“That mess oughta raise the dead, since it was that slop that probably killed them in the first place.”
Bea and Trustee Noel's heads swung around. In the side door to the fellowship hall stood Sasha, one hand on her tiny hip with her cane dangling by its handle off her wrist. In her other hand, she held her customized Bible tightly.
She would have spewed more venom, but she was all out of breath. She'd figured, like Bea, that he'd be there. She looked all over the church and wasn't too happy when she found out Bea had gotten to the trustee first.
“You better believe me when I warn you it's for your own good.” Sasha's eyes narrowed. The clicking sound from her tiny orthopedic shoes announced each footstep as she approached Bea and Trustee Noel.
Sasha looked him straight in his eyes as she spoke. “Even that glop that passes for food over at the Soul Food Shanty ain't built up the lining of your stomach enough to keep Bea's slop from killing you.”
Before the two church mothers could lay hands on the trustee and rip him apart as Solomon threatened to do to the baby in question, Elder Batty Brick and Brother Casanova appeared. They'd arrived to make sure the hall was decorated properly, and to set up the sound system.
Trustee Noel could've kissed the men, he was that happy to see them. Alone with Bea and Sasha had never been a plan for him even if he had to go to his grave without ever having had a woman.
He fled so fast he looked like a pencil galloping out the door. Of course, when the men turned back to Bea and Sasha, they already had their excuses.
“He forgot the hangers for the coats,” they said in unison.
 
 
Finally reaching the Soul Food Shanty after escaping the clutches of Bea and Sasha, he galloped up the stairs and into his room. “Oh my God!” Trustee Noel could not believe Bea and Sasha had ambushed him. They'd never said what they wanted but he was certain he knew, and just as certain he wouldn't give it to them. He'd saved himself for the right woman and neither of those two fit his limited specifications.
He thought about his Thanksgiving dinner with Sister Betty and it brought a smile to his face. She'd managed to push aside his sullen mood that only days before had pushed him to consider changing churches. His smile grew wider as he flopped down upon his small bed and disregarded the usual creaky sounds of the bedsprings.
He clapped his hands together and made a victory sign with his fingers. “
Sister Betty
and I are going to the prom together.” Only he would become so overly excited at her last minute suggestion of attending together, but it didn't matter. He'd been invited somewhere by a woman he actually liked, and who had fed him once.
His face lit up again, and before he could stop, he yelled, “Thank You Heavenly Father. Thank You!”
He'd already reserved a limousine, all the way from Anderson, to take them to the prom, but he didn't have a lot of time to spend on daydreaming. Sister Betty had called him earlier and told him to be ready for a surprise or two that night. Was she ready to take it to the next level, he wondered. He wouldn't think badly of her if she did want to hold hands.
He didn't have much time to prepare, but he'd be ready and look as good as he could. He hadn't spent much of the millions, but he had gone to JCPenney and bought several suits. He just needed to choose which one to wear.
The Shanty's hot water heater still wasn't on, but he kept it moving. “A cold shower can't hurt nobody.” He remained convinced until he saw the effects on his body and his limited-use manhood. Whatever Sister Betty planned, he couldn't get naked to participate.
 
 
Bea had two hours to go before she needed to arrive at the prom. She went over the final touches of her gonna-git-that-check outfit. It took her longer to stuff her girth into the outfit than she'd taken to stuff her Thanksgiving turkey. Over the years, she'd gone from a size four to a size twenty-four.
“Suck it in, Bea,” she told herself as she shoved and abused her body into a sexy, one-strapped, back out, black velvet dress. She hadn't worn that dress since her fifties when she dated old Benn Dead and folded her gambling operation held in her back bedroom. That was a time when her huge breasts were about five inches off her waistline instead of their current two inches, and her back was not quite so arched.
Benn Dead was fifteen years her senior, but had the potential to make her a wealthy widow. For almost five years, she'd endured his frequent memory losses, bad breath, and need to butt trumpet the melody to “Blowin' in the Wind.” Bea had given up and returned to playing bingo.
“Lord, take me back to the good ole days and further back than that old fool.”
Further back were the days when she was Bea “Baby Doll” Blister, a croupier's croupier. “Have mercy, I remember a time when I would've taken Donald Trump for all his millions and held that ratty hairpiece for ransom. I'd have gotten away with it, too.”
Now when she looked in a mirror, Bea's body looked the same way coming or going.
There was only one thing missing from her Bea “Baby Doll” special ensemble. Bea needed a wig and she had about ten of them spread around her bedroom. Colorful synthetic and natural hair in an array of styles were pulled down on foam wig heads and across lampshades. She finally settled upon a bright red wig with a huge green bow on its side. After all, it was the Christmas season.
Soon, she was ready to go. She'd already secured a seat on one of the church's smaller Access-A-Ride vans. She'd wanted to get there early. It wouldn't hurt if no one knew she'd arrived without a prom date.
As Bea sat by her window to watch and wait, she saw an old turkey with a broken wattle. Behind the turkey was a sleigh with a weathered Santa seated with an elf and presents. The elf figure reminded her of Sasha and the fun she'd soon have at Sasha's expense. Bea laughed until she almost shook the dress off. “Sasha's gonna have another cow to add to that herd I've already given her over the years.” She really didn't know how she'd survive without her favorite foil.
Bea heard the blaring from the van's horn announcing its arrival. She felt as though she could've danced out of her home and into the street. Nobody could tell Bea she wasn't classy that night. Her huge breasts poked out so far it was hard to see that she had a hunched back.
Of course, Bea was also wearing a huge red wool hat to protect her red wig. The flapping brim blocked most of her view, which prevented her from seeing as clear as she needed, so Bea saw the van but didn't see the demon in its back seat.
 
 
When Sasha called for one of the church's vans to get to the prom, she'd learned she'd have to share the ride. “I'm in a hurry! I don't have time to stop nowhere, and I don't care who else needs a ride.”
She wasn't aware that she and Bea shared the same concern. She wanted to get there early so no one would know she arrived without a prom date, too. Sasha was mad enough to chew a mud hole in a lion's butt.
She threw away her Church Mother's sanctified dress code and chose from her dusty get-a-man arsenal. None that remembered her from those times would forget how well she'd danced. Sasha “Shut 'em Down” Hellraiser was what they'd called her before she married, and later became widowed by, Hezekiah Pray Onn. Sasha called her late husband the Marlboro Man; not because he was handsome, but because he'd smoked Marlboros, and she believed cigarettes caused his death.
Determined to stay in a festive mood with new husband prospects a strong possibility, Sasha started singing. “Hellraiser parties are hot!”
From way back in her closet where she kept her way-back-in-the-day outfits she rummaged until she found a two-piece, powder blue power suit. It was a Jackie Kennedy knockoff from the sixties and she'd won a few dance contests with it. The jacket had a deep blue faux-fur collar with a low neckline that served no purpose other than to show the deep wrinkles on Sasha's tiny breasts.
“Have mercy, I still got it! This is gonna be like taking candy from a rich baby.” She turned side-to-side and smiled with approval at her reflection in the mirror. “Yep, that po' man don't stand a chance against what I use.”
Thankfully, the skirt with its six-inch split on the side had a lining, because Sasha didn't always remember that panties were not optional. She accessorized it with an ecru-colored set of false teeth and matched the teeth with ecru-colored orthopedic pumps. She donned a pair of see-through plastic booties to protect the pumps from the pouring rain.
From the moment she'd entered the van Sasha raised her voice and reminded its driver of her church position, the urgency of her need, and even a lawsuit if she were late, plus anything more she could use as a warning.
Of course, the driver didn't see any economic benefits in her proposal and didn't care about her threats or comfort. But he should have.
When the van first pulled up in front of Bea's home Sasha almost stroked. Bea hadn't taken but a few steps toward the van before Sasha began to attack the poor driver. She even tried to use her cane to poke the man. “Leave that heffa where she's at and drive away!” Sasha screamed. “I ain't sharing no van with that rabid raccoon hussy! I'm head of the Mothers Board and God hears my prayers!”
BOOK: No Ordinary Noel
12.14Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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