The church is right out
of Little House on the Prairie, large school house shack with clean, canary
yellow paint. It’s tucked back against a gradual hill and surrounded by great
expanses of nothing; sage brush. Lots of sage brush. We park in a gravel lot
along the weeds. People are filing into the front double doors. A group of
small children gather at one of the rear corners of the building behind a wood
shed. They’re watching an older boy stomp and dance around. His mannerisms are
jerky and erratic. He wears a carefree grin that reminds me of my childhood.
I climb out and grimace. “What’s that noise?” It’s shrill
and piercing.
“Whistle Pigs!” the twins shout in unison and run to join
the crowd of children.
“What the hell is a whistle pig?” I say.
“You’ve never heard of whistle pigs? Punxsutawney Phil? They’re ground hogs. I
loved that game when I was a girl.”
“What game?”
I approach the children. The older boy is stomping, moving
and stomping again. Five children knelt down along an imaginary perimeter and
are rooting the boy. They shout, “Get him, Tommy! Get him!” He moves faster and
more frantic with their cheers.
A furry creature pops its head out of a hole in the
ground, one of a series of six holes. It rears on his haunches and glances
around as if it wonders what the commotion is. It lets out an unearthly shriek.
The boy turns, lunges, and stomps just as the creature slips back underground.
A ratchety chuckle comes from the hole. Another boy pokes at the holes with a
stick.
Behind Tommy and to his left another creature pops out,
squeals and clamors back into his hole just as Tommy’s size five strikes the
ground. The little beasties seem to enjoy this deadly game as much as the
children. The more annoying the shrieks become, the more I hope the boy will get
them. He stomps at them with pure glee. I think of Little Bunny Foo Foo and
Whack a Mole. I grin in spite of the madness of it.
“I wish I could try,” a little girl says.
“Why can’t you play too?” I ask.
“Our momma gets real upset if we get guts on our church
shoes.”
I let go my smile and scratch my head.
Excerpt from
Squishing Whistle Pigs
A Short Story by
M.L. Falconer
Excerpt from
Squishing Whistle Pigs
A Short Story by
M.L. Falconer
8 comments:
Loved it, M.L.! You're writing flows so well. The descriptions are perfect, really get the images going. I had to chuckle about the little girls guts on the church shoes comment. And now I can't get Little Bunny Foo Foo out of my head! My stepdaughter used to sing that when she was really young. She was so animated about it, and it cracked me up every time! Thanks for bringing back the memories!
Thank you so much L.J. Coming from a writer that I admire so much, it really means the world to me. My ultimate desire is for my writing to make you smile, cry, swoon, scream in anger and laugh out loud; in no particular order. lol.
I can just see your stepdaughter running through the house singing that and simulating the "and bop them on the head" part by smacking her hand. I loved that song too. You just can't sing it or hear it and not smile.
So glad you liked it!
Well I can definitely feel your passion in your writing and that in turn brings out every one of those emotions. You've got it down. I can't wait to read more from you :)
I always loved your short stories :)
I actually read this prior to your Sunday six this week. I love the way it reads, the haunting rhythmicality and vivid wording really take me somewhere else entirely. I had to look up Bunny Foo Foo on Wikipedia (yes, it has its own entry) and learned some unexpected things about the world of mice harassment.
"Guts on church shoes" has to be the best thing I read all day today - it makes my mind run wild with images and ideas and apprehension. What an excellent piece, Mel!
Thank you very much, Dana. Yes, that Little Bunny Foo Foo is a bad egg. lol. He's probably the first ever bully. ;) I'm glad you liked the guts part. I was hoping for laughs there and not ... eeeeeww. ;
Hi Mel, I just re-read this and I liked it even more after the second read - that hardly ever happens. I'm not saying this to "toot", or rather, you are as far beyond a toot as a tricycle from a Rolls-Royce. You, my friend, deserve a honking fest!
lol! Thank you very much Dana! Your comments make me feel like I could take on the world and win. ;)
Post a Comment