Writing the Ride

Candace Carrabus Books
 

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R is for Red Panties

As I mentioned yesterday, I made a huge mistake agreeing to meet JJ for dinner. But that was only the beginning.  I drank too much. Bad habit. Makes me make bad choices. The moon was full and following JJ down to the river sounded like a grand idea. Next thing I knew, we were standing in the water, he was naked, and my favorite red panties were around my knees. A moment later, I twisted away from him, ran for my truck, and gunned it.

My panties went for a float downstream without me. I thought I’d never see them again.

I was wrong.

At the grocery store the next day, I ran into Sandy and we started talking.

Two older ladies walked toward us, each carrying a small basket rather than pushing a cart. They were deep in conversation, heads tilted toward each other, so we moved over until they went on, but they stopped at the canned gravy. Sandy did an eye roll that had me afraid her eyes would get stuck inside her head, then picked out a can of corn niblets and one of creamed, and appeared to consider.

“Well,” the first lady said, “when Fred went down to the bottom to count head this morning, some of them was in the river. He almost had an apoplexy when he seen his prize bull.”

“What’d he do, Melba, get himself stuck in a hole again?”

I started to back my cart. Without looking away from the corn, Sandy put one foot on it to keep me from moving off. I returned my attention to the green beans.

“Oh goodness, no. Fred thought he’d gashed his face open or tore off an ear. Lordy, his whole head looked bloody.”

“Oh dear, it wasn’t one of the cows, was it?”

“No, no, no. Now, just let me tell it.”

Melba wore a striped dress, pantyhose, and faded Keds with the toes cut out. Support-hose clad toes showed through the openings. She had short, white hair and Delft blue eyes. Edna looked like her twin except she wore green polyester pants and black slip-on shoes with her plaid cotton blouse. Her swollen ankles and feet overflowed the top edges of the shoes.

“Look, Fred’s favorite gravy is on sale,” Melba said. “Buy two get one free. Oh, but I can’t use that many.”

“I’ll take the free one,” Edna said. “Even though it’s only me, sometimes I invite Herbert over.”

I sighed in exasperation, exchanged a look with Sandy. What in heck happened to Fred’s bull? She put a can of creamed corn in my basket.

At my squinty-eyed stare, she whispered, “Try it, you’ll like it.”

Melba gently elbowed Edna. “I think Herbert’s sweet on you.”

Edna hid a giggle behind an embroidered hanky. “Now, tell me about that silly bull of yours.”

“Yes, well,” Melba cleared her throat and leaned closer. “You won’t believe it. Turns out it was a pair of red, lace underpants stuck on his horn.”

 


Losing my favorite panties makes me cranky. I wish I could say that was the last I heard of my panties, but it wasn’t. I wish I could say that was the end of my underwear problems, but it wasn’t.

Join me tomorrow for S is for safe/not safe.


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