“You bin driving my Chevette again, Daddy Sheriff.” Lilly Jean stood before her husband, hands on hips.
Howard settled back on the couch. This ought to make for an interesting argument.
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing, woman. Now move aside, you’re blocking the TV.”
“Town Sheriff don’t drive no Chevette. It ain’t dignified.”
“How do you explain this, then?” She held up a sock—an orange sock. Howard immediately recognized it as his father’s. Score one Lilly Jean. “I bin looking for this sock for three weeks, Daddy Sheriff. I finally throwed its partner away.”
“You trashed my lucky sock?”
“Can’t get lucky when you’re all alone, Daddy Sheriff.”
“Lilly Jean, I…”
“How ‘m I supposed to match up your socks when you put one on the bathroom floor and the other in my glove box? I swear you’re messing with my brain.” She shook her head.
Daddy Sheriff shrugged. “I didn’t put it there.”
“It’s stinking up my car to high heaven. Making me queasy. I think I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Lord woman, leave it already. You’ve been announcing your pregnancy every month since we married.” That was true, Howard thought. Score one Daddy Sheriff. Then he thought how strange it would be to have a sibling thirty-seven years younger than himself. “Do me a favor, Daddy Sheriff,” Lilly Jean said. “Just put the sock in the hamper next time. Your underdrawers too. Bad enough I gotta wash all you men’s skivvies, now I gotta round ‘em up, too. Hell, I feel like a cowboy running round this house on laundry day, lassoing up your attire.”
“You made your point, Lilly Jean.”
“I ain’t done, Daddy Sheriff.”
He sighed and ran a hand across his eyebrows. “What now?”
Lilly Jean withdrew something from the pocket of her sweatshirt and held it out to her husband. “What exactly is this?”
“I can’t tell, woman. It’s all wrapped up in a napkin.”
“It’s a cupcake. Half a cupcake, to be exact.” She pinched off a piece and stuck it in her mouth. “Spice. What, my cupcakes ain’t good enough for you, you gotta go somewhere else for your dessert?” She tossed the cupcake into Daddy Sheriff's lap. Two points Lilly Jean.
Daddy Sheriff leaned back in his chair. His face reddened. “Lilly Jean, that ain’t mine.”
“Found it in the glove box, Daddy Sheriff. Right next to the sock. You telling me I put it there?”
“Lilly Jean I didn’t put anything in your car. I didn’t drive your car. I went nowhere near your car this entire week.”
“Oh? So who put this piece of paper in my glove box?” Lilly Jean fished in her back pocket and withdrew a torn slip of paper. “Let’s see here. A37-2.”
Daddy Sheriff leapt from his seat and snatched the paper from her hand. “Where did you find this, woman?”
“I bin telling you this all night, Daddy Sheriff. In my car. There better be a good reason for all this shit bein’ in my glove box.”
Daddy Sheriff crumpled the paper into a tight ball and stuffed it into his front pocket. “Lilly Jean, you can just forget about what you saw on that paper, you got it?”
“Why should I?” Hands on hips again. The woman hadn’t yet learned, apparently.
Daddy Sheriff grabbed his wife of eight months by her shirt and pulled her to him. Pulled her in so close, Howard knew, that Lilly Jean could see every one of Daddy Sheriff’s little yellow pointy teeth. “Humor me, woman,” Daddy Sheriff whispered. “All right?”
Lilly Jean nodded. Her face whitened. “OK, Daddy Sheriff. I was just funning with you. You can drive my…”
Daddy Sheriff released his wife and stormed from the house, slamming the front door behind him.
Lilly Jean looked at Howard. “What was that all about, do you think?”
And that was when Howard remembered: You just can’t win with Daddy Sheriff.For the previous chapter, click here.
For this week's Indie Ink Writing Challenge, GUS challenged me with: "There better be a good reason for a half eaten cupcake, an orange sock and a torn paper with A37-2 to be in my car's glovebox." I challenged Head Ant with: "This place looks familiar. Have I been here before?"
Labels: Fiction Indie Ink