MARTHA MESHBERG

Me and Vicki  (A monologue)

We were two of those kids that were

what our folks called: ‘tom boys’.

We climbed a lot of trees, and

jumped off a lot of roofs and stole

a few more hens eggs

than we'd like to admit...

We still remember the incredible

ecstatic thrill

(and awesome guilt)

of smashing all them hens eggs

down the side of Isaiah Crippens

brand new tin shed.

Man, those eggs, they'd splat everywhere-

and then they'd ooze

down the side of the shed

all yellow and mucus-like, with chips

and specks- all dripping, gooey, sticky and wet

And wow: how

                 absolutely "fossilized"

                 those eggs became when they dried!

It was just

so coolly disgusting!

And we'd belly laugh loudly,

rolling around on the ground, throwin'

and smashin' them eggs again and again.

But what made it totally "the best" was:

they were Isaiah Crippens's eggs!

(Vickie would raid the coop

while I coolly kept watch...oooo, tsk,tsk,tsk.)

So, we kept this up for a week or two-

always drawn to that dastardly frolic

until one day, in the middle of our reverie,

Mr. Isaiah Crippens himself, made a

surprise appearance on the scene!

He was like a red hot poker

as he came charging our way

and we lit the hell outta there

barely escaping, by the seat of our pants,

scrambling ‘neath the rickety ‘ole fence.

He waved his arms and ranted and yelled,

Swearin’ he was calling the police

to have us put in jail!

Geeze...we ran faster than jack rabbits,

until we fell, scared, exhausted and spent

into the hay loft of Vicki's barn.

We hid out for hours... 'til way past dark...

then parted ways

(with our "stories" straight)

and crept quietly home.

We got through the night

and never did become ‘captives’

of the police.

(Darn good we made our selves scarce.)

Next day, we decided that: after all,

what we were up to, was really wrong.

It was stealin' and wastin’

perfectly good eggs.

‘N besides there were kids in the world

who had nothin' to eat!

So, we humbly apologized

to Mr. Isaiah Crippens

and mercifully paid for the loss

of them eggs

by cleaning Mr. Isaiah Crippens hen house

for two whole months!

We was really sorry for what we done

and went to church

and did a whole lot of prayin'

Well, I guess

we've been forgiven...

it's been all these years

and we ain't NEVER

stole nobody's eggs

er nothin'

EVER AGAIN!

Martha Meshberg

Copyright ©2002