Amanda Ann Adult was the convent's once-a-week baker. She was also a local radio celebrity. On her show, she would teach all of the Snortland's aspiring cooks how to make delicious meals for their families. Just like me, she would always apply herself to her tasks with some healthy nips of heavenly spirits. While bourbon was my spirit of choice, Amanda Ann preferred vodka.
On this particular evening, I found her in the convent's kitchen where I was sure to find some intoxicating refreshments on hand. As I've already said, I wasn’t the only thirsty soul in Bucksnort.
I breezed into the kitchen where I found Amanda Ann with her head bent over an open oven. “Shit!” she exclaimed.
“What’s the matter?” I asked.
She quickly whirled around like a top. Even so, not so much as a single hair on her lacquered head fell out of place as she whirled around and shouted, “I forgot to put the yeast into the bread dough! Now I’ve got to start all over from scratch!”
“Oh dear!” I muttered. “It sounds as if this calls for a drink.”
“You’ve got that damn right, Sister!” she exclaimed. Then she whirled around in another dizzying circle as she zeroed in on her quarry. That would have been her big bottle of vodka. She marched over to the counter with a single-minded purpose and she snatched up that bottle from which she poured herself a generous glass.
After taking a couple of long gulps, she turned to me and asked, “Would you care to join me?”
“Don’t mind if I do!” I chirped with a broad smile.
“You could have fooled me!” she proclaimed with a sarcastic sneer. Then she took another long swallow from her glass before she finally produced a smile. “Now that’s better!” she exclaimed. “So what are you waiting for? Get yourself a glass before I drain this bottle!”
That was all it took to propel me into action. I grabbed a tall tumbler from the kitchen cupboard and I held it out before her while I waited for her to fill it to the rim. Then I took my own long, greedy gulp before I asked her what I thought might be an innocent question. “So,” I said. “How’s your brother, Jules?”
“Pussy-whipped, that’s what!” exclaimed his Caucasian sister. I didn’t quite catch her meaning, but I wasn’t going to have to wait long for an explanation. “As to the ‘how’ part of your question, it has to do with the cow who’s been freeloading off him since last Thanksgiving.”
It didn’t take much imagination to guess that she was talking about Lula Mae Bunsaplenty. “Now, Amanda Ann,” I counseled her as she started to mix the ingredients for a new batch of bread dough. “Surely you’re not making a judgment!”
“I damn well am and I don’t care!” she barked back as she took a final slug of her vodka. “That fat, lazy, black-assed floozy thinks she’s got my brother wrapped around her pudgy pinky finger! I told him that I’d set a roasted turkey on his front porch. Then all he’d have to do would be to wait for Miss High and Mighty to catch a whiff of it. She’d wag that big tail of hers faster than a bitch in heat in order to get out there and grab herself a turkey leg!”
“That’s when Jules would only need to throw out her suitcase and car keys after her, slam the door shut, and turn the bolt. I’m sure that’s all it would take to get that big cow to jump into her Cadillac and hightail it out of town in a huff. Of course, I’d never see my roasting pan again, but that would be a small price to pay in order to get rid of her!”
“What would make you say a thing like that?” I exclaimed. “Surely Lula Mae’s got some redeeming features!”
“The only redeeming features that broad’s got are those two huge jugs that she likes to jiggle in front of my brother’s nose! That only turns his legs into Jello. The next thing you know, he’s falling down onto his bed and getting straddled by a cow! It’s just too bad that he can’t get a gallon or two of milk out of it for all of his efforts!”
“Amanda Ann!” I exclaimed as I took a slug out of my own glass. “What makes you think that Jules would want to get rid of her?”
“He’s got rocks in his head if he doesn’t want to!” she proclaimed as she poured herself another tall glass. “That woman’s been after his money and now she’s gone and sent him to a shrink!”
“Oh!” I murmured as I thought of Dr. Wally Wacky-Wacko. “I didn’t realize that it had come to that!”
“I call it a crying shame! After all, my brother is eighty-five years-old and he’s no weakling! He’s had to fight prejudice and adversity most of his life as a man of color. Now, when he should be able to enjoy some peace during his golden years, more adversity has come back to him in the form of a black cow.”
I could see that I wasn’t going to get anywhere with Amanda Ann. Her drinks were only fueling the fire and mine were only beginning to cloud my sense of clarity. All I could think of to say was, “Well, as you say, he is a grown man. I’m sure he’ll sort it out! What you might want to remember is that things
always work themselves out in the end.”
“That’s exactly the problem!” she declared. “That woman always uses her end to work Jules around her pinky finger!” With that said, she shook her head violently. Once again, I noticed that not a hair on
her lacquered head moved out of place. I could also see that I wasn’t about to change her thinking. I’d have to leave that one to God.
For now, I decided I’d spent more than enough of my breath. I’d also had enough to drink. What I really wanted was a Marlboro and to offer up a prayer. Perhaps that would direct my breath and my thoughts in a more positive fashion.
I simply shrugged my shoulders and I gave Amanda Ann a smile of resignation. She returned my smile with a scowl. Then I bid her a good afternoon and I walked out of the kitchen as I heard her swearing up a blue streak. Apparently she'd forgotten to put the yeast into her new batch of bread dough.
Author Davis Aujourd'Hui
Sister Mary Olga Book Series:
Book #1 "The Misadventures of Sister Mary Olga Fortitude"
Book #2 Just Released - "Babes in Bucksort"
Available in Paperback and Kindle Format ($3.99)
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