Berta Lou was in the middle of what can only be described as a full fledged tizzy. Half laughing and still half asleep, she told me she had just received a personal call from a superior at her place of employment who was concerned about whatever non red-headed jack leg it was who had dared to upset her in such a harrowing and offensive way.
It seems my post yesterday reference my desire to punch people in the nose sent a wave of concern out among Bert’s co-workers. To her credit, she is much loved, greatly respected and tremendously feared among her brothers and sisters in uniform. Whomever it was that had dared to hurt the Princess dispatcher was going to get punched in the nose by more than just me.
It became a real life game of Clue.
“It was BD in the break room with a candlestick!”
“No! It was Brandon in the patrol car with the handcuffs.”
“I think it was Eric in the evidence locker with a feather duster.”
Because I am both a decent and modest person who believes in avoiding scandal at all costs and in an effort to settle the unrest that threatens to pit co-worker against co-worker, I am going to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me Elvis.
This is how it all went down.
Yesterday I was spending my afternoon as I always do, knitting socks for the homeless and sockless when Berta called me and said, “Sher, I am calling to say what a wonderfully wonderful best friend you are and how lucky I am to have you in my life. Oh…and you’re pretty, too.”
This may seem unusual to you, Blog Reader, but the evil red-headed Berta Lou always calls me on Wednesday’s to remind me why she loves me. That’s because Wednesday’s are the only day left open on the “call Sher and tell her why you love her” calendar. Mr. Man, Deputy Pretty and the frozen pea guy at Wal-Mart cover all the other days.
This conversation however unexpectedly took a sinister turn. I don’t know what happened to the evil red-headed Berta Lou that flipped her switch from sugary sweet to deviled egg, but I am inclined to think she may have had a small stroke. Or maybe she ate some black licorice.
Little known fact: black licorice is made in the pits of Hell by cloven-hoofed flying monkeys. Its Satan’s candy.
“Sher,” she said in a gravelly and totally exorcist voice, “I want you to do something mean and hateful for no good reason.”
Naturally I was taken aback at her suggestion as I am always opposed to being mean and hateful to anyone even when it is well deserved.
“I know someone who reads your blog that I would like very much to mess with,” said Berta. I’m not accusing her of anything, but I am farily certain I heard the distinct sound of cloven-hoofed monkeys making licorice in the background.
In short, my best friend thought it would be funny to make a certain person we know go nuts trying to figure out which jack leg I was talking about in my blog. Naturally I wanted no part of such a wicked plot. But as anyone knows who has ever had the sad misfortune of crossing the evil red-headed Berta Lou, its like tugging on Superman’s cape, spitting into the wind and messing with Jim. No good can come from it.
So, I did her malevolent bidding and look what happened. Midwestern uniform-wearing superiors, inferiors and posteriors are all in an uproar. A hissy even.
Here’s the moral of the story, kids. Wiping the Crazy Off My Face is not a news source. If you’re looking for facts, pick up the National Enquirer.
Copyright © 2004-2006, Sherri Bailey
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