Yesterday was Thanksgiving in Canada, not quite as big a holiday as the November one is in the US, but still a time to be grateful for everything you have. It’s been a difficult year for my family, one that I hope we won’t have to repeat any time soon, but as my minister puts it, we need to be thankful always in all ways for what we have and those around us. So, let me say how grateful I am to have all of you in my life as well as my family.
Last week’s was picture prompt time, and we’re just on the edge of that meal now. This week, the word prompt is BOX. So, without further ado, as they say…
Bill moved a biscuit to the side and spooned the thick stew into his mouth. It tasted even better than it smelled, something he’d never have believed. Picking up one of the gravy-laden biscuits, he popped it into his mouth, where it melted. Shirley was one hell of a cook. Thinking of the last few meals he’d eaten, “nuke and pukes” on sale in the fast frozen section of the grocery store, he closed his eyes and savored his meal.
“You know, if I had the room, I’d move you into my apartment so you could cook for me. I haven’t had food this good in years.”
“Go away with you. It’s just rabbit stew. I can show you how to make it. You don’t need an old woman cooking for you, you need a wife.”
Bill chuckled. “Haven’t found one that fit the bill yet,” he said, “no pun intended.”
Shirley laughed as if what he’d said was the funniest thing she’d ever heard, and then ended up coughing so hard, Bill thought she’d choke.
She held up her hand, reached for a tissue from the box on the table, and covered her mouth with it. Seconds later, she slipped the soiled tissue into her pocket.
“Relax, sergeant, sometimes I just need a good laugh to clean out the pipes. I’m fine. Lots of crap in the air today just makes my old lungs work harder. Now, tell me about that bullet hole in your chest.”
“Nothing to tell, really. “I got called in on a domestic disturbance last winter. One of the neighbors claimed they’d heard shouting and the sounds of a struggle. The 9-1-1 caller said there was a child in the apartment. I was alone in the car and supposed to wait for back-up, but when I got there, I heard crying so fool that I am, I went inside. Didn’t find what I expected.”
“What did you find?”
“A woman and child in the corner, lots of blood, and a big guy covered in tattoos held a gun on them. There were a couple of keys of cocaine on the table, and another man was calmly sitting there cutting it for distribution. He looked up at me and didn’t even break a sweat, the expression on his face telling me he knew he was a dead man. I think the woman and child were his. I announced myself, and told the man with the gun to drop it, and he did. I stepped into the room to check on the woman—see if she was still breathing—but there was a man behind the door I hadn’t seen. I took one up close and personal in the back. Bullet went right through. It shattered ribs and creased the heart. By the time back-up arrived, the drugs were gone. The man at the table was dead as was the woman. The little boy was wounded, incidentally, by the bullet that went through me, but he recovered. He was only two, so he couldn’t tell us anything. No one expected me to survive either. Somehow, I did. Don’t ask me how or why, I don’t know. End of story.”
“I know why you survived,” Shirley said, matter of factly, spooning the last of the stew into her mouth. “The spirit chose you for her. He’s with you—will always be with you—and wants you to take care of her.”
“Shirley, now you’re talking crazy. I’m most definitely not possessed, and who the hell is her?”
“Charley, of course. He wants her to be happy and between the two of you, she will be. Now, help me finish cleaning this place up before she wakes.”
Well, that’s it for this week. Now, please drop by and visit all the Tuesday Tales