Friday, November 15, 2013

I went grocery shopping Thursday. Everything seems to happen when I go grocery shopping. Probably the only time I’m out and paying attention to others around me.

A great many years ago, in another incarnation or so it seems, I knew a lady named Vickie. She was (or is, if still alive) white. She married a black man, in the then atmosphere of the services. A terrible strain on her and her marriage. It resulted in some strange behavior and actions from her. I was transferred before knowing the end of that story.

She had a personal bent as an artist. She’d draw pictures filled with  anger, agony, and hate; stark violence in every form, twisted tree’s and roiled skies. All her art was in Green and Black Crayola on white paper.

Then there’s the current post mistress here in the village. Her name is Vickie. She is the mother of the ex-deputy, an OD’er of prescription drugs (supposedly), twice married and divorced, mother, also of another son of dubious reputation.

Which is not to relate they were/are terrible people. Just to point out their common names and the tribulation laden life they slip and slide into.

And then there is the third Vickie.  That’s where the grocery shopping comes in. This Vickie is originally an Okie. She’s approaching her fifty-fifth year, I suppose, but maybe is somewhat younger.

Her family, in her home town, were grocers, and later in her life, truck stop managers. Finishing high school she began working in all the enterprises of the family. The lady is familiar with customer services and product. Their ordering and handling, and the machines associated with the businesses, including the business of butchering.

This Vickie met and married a great bear of a man. The fellow stands six foot six or better, weighting greater than 320 pounds. Which is where, I’m thinking, I should point out that Vickie is a 5’ 8 inch tall woman of goodly width, not fat so much as having what woman are fond of calling child bearing hips.

Like many, some will notice, of those physical characteristics, Vickie’s mental attitude is negative baby machine, woman is more than male collateral, I have a mind. One child to temper the hardwired system God gave the female body and to satisfy the male’s bonding impulse and then find a life.

An attitude.

A no nonsense attitude.


(We’ll continue the story tomorrow)


From the reaches,

Ten Whiskey

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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