On Writing: Glory of Gossip

November 27th

For those in need of a writing prompt, or a simple kick in the pants to get back to your project — I’ll be posting brief pieces I’ve recently submitted for a Lighthouse course.

This week’s assignment: write a short narrative about hot gossip.

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The Glory of Gossip

 

“You wouldn’t believe what I heard the other day, Mary.”

“What, darlin’?”

“Hector’s becoming a Helene.”

“Huh?”
“You heard me. Hector. Hector Martinez – the man down the street with three kids and that fat wife? Well. Come to find out he wants to be the fat wife.”

“Uh, honey, you want to tell me how that’s going to happen? I reckon they can’t just. You know. Cut it off.”

“That’s exactly what they are fixin’ to do. Cut it off. Shirley Lewis told me he was in the Yellow Penny the other day trying on ladies’ dresses and heels. Heels, Mary! Can you imagine? I can’t even believe they make heels big enough for Hector’s feet.”

“Honey, you done lost your mind. Ain’t no way Hector is buying heels at the Yellow Penny. They don’t have my little size 7 most days.”

“I’m telling you! Shirley stands next to me in the choir. She’s been working there for five years. She’d know if Hector Martinez asked to try on dresses Mary!”

“Oh, lordy. Lordy lordy lordy. Can you just imagine? They are going to cut it off? What will his wife do?”

“Celebrate? I don’t know, darlin’. I just don’t know. Imagine his kids? The oldest boy is on the football team. Something tells me they aren’t going to be in Conville much longer.”

“I mean, heavens. Gladys, what would you do? Would you stick around to play bridge and sing the gospel with women who knew your husband shared your brassiers? I don’t guess you would.”

“Honey, Frank is too lazy to wear clean underwear most days. The last thing he’s thinking about his cramming his fat bits into one of my bras, or going to the Yellow Penny for a girdle.”

“Oh, that poor Mrs. Martinez. What should we do?”

“Casserole – I’ll drop one off later. Plus, if I lurk around long enough, maybe I’ll get a glimpse!”

“Oh, Gladys – you’re the worst. Call me after?

~

 

 

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