With Lady Lynda on her Speaking Tour about the Importance of Proper Manners & Socual Decorum, Auntie Carol continued her mission, working with Las Cabronas, the socially end economically disavantaged girls gang they had adopted as a special project. Auntie Carol was also talking about social niceties, the necessity to always carry a scented sashet in one’s purse, a kerchief, and a tube of pink lipstick, and to cross one’s legs at the hip level when wearing a short skirt, and to never sneeze into the linen tablecloth at a five star restaurant even if one’s allergies were practically life endangering.
After covering these cogent facts she launched into Edna St. Vincent Millay’s timely poem quote, “I burn my candle at both ends/ and shall not last the night.” And its deeper meaning which was totally lost on the gangleader, Lala. “Miz Carol that means when you burn the birthday candles down too low on the birthday cake ’cause nobody thought to blow them out in time and leaving a fucked up mess and having to scrape all the icing off the cake to eat it!”
“Language, Dear, a proper lady never swears!” intoned Auntie Carol. How she missed the gentle camaraderie of her co-teacher, Lady Lynda, in the classroom, and thought to herself, “Oh, well, the sainted dove has flown the coop.” She further embelished on the fact that the quote had a deeper more profound meaning, that it was necessary to rest and conserve oneself to lengthen one’s time on the earth, and that the candle symbolized the life force itself. And that if one lived fast and wild, one tended to die young. Lift not your skirts in vain, fair damsels, and the like.
“Miz Carol”, countered Lala, “How you gone say that. You got to git it on while you still can before you get old and disgusting. You know, all old and fat and wrinkled like some old jelly fish. Cuz’ then who gone ring your bell?”
“Conservation of one’s spritual and physical resources is the wisest path, Dear.” said Auntie Carol.
“Who, you are, Miz Carol, Smokey the Bear?”laughed Lala, and the class exploded in riotous laughter.
“Faith, hope and charity, can only extend one’s time on earth, young lady, and helps one to avoid life’s major quagmires ” replied Auntie Carol.
“Oh, my God, Miz Carol, my pussy done exploded!” screamed Chiquita, Lala’s girl, not in “that” way, silly.
“No, dear the correct term is your pudenda imploded. Launguage is the gateway to reality and the only tool we have to negociate this ‘vale of tears’ that is life,” said Auntie Carol.
“Oh, fuck, my water just broke. Get the nurse, Miz Carol,” said Chiquita. “It’s coming.”
“I never knew you had it in you, dear,” said Auntie Carol.
“Whatchu think. That I was just fat. Get the fuckin’ nurse, please.” Chiquita’s left eye had begun to twitch and the rose tatoo on her cheek was jumping spasmodically.
“Go get the nurse, Miz Carol, I’m havin’ Pookie’s baby.”
Auntie Carol ran to the nurse’s station only to be greeted by a ghastly sight. One of the psycho students, high on PCB, was holding a knife to the nurse’s throat and saying, “I’ll kill you, mother.” The nurse a stout lady ordered Auntie Carol to back slowly out and that she had the situation well in hand. Auntie Carol went out in the hall and called both the police and an ambulance. Then she ran back to the classroom in all due haste. She found the girl’s had found to pillow to slide under Chiquita’s ass, and they were all chanting. “Push, Push!” They formed a circle around the writhing girl.
Lala, not to be outdone, said, “Get that little cocksucker outa ya, Chickie.”
“Don’ you call Pookie’s baba names, ya slut!” said Chiquita who then went into a disertation about how she was going to cut his motherfucking balls off and eat them raw over a bowl of Spanish rice.
“Sorry, hon, I got carried awawy. It was worse when I had my daddy’s baby. Ay! La pena (pain). Que chinga tienes, mujer.” (What trouble you have, woman).
“Ay! Miz Carol! This gone kill me. Voy al infierno. (I’m going to hell). I done sinned against the Blessed Mother! Ay! Ay! Ay!” sreamed Chiquita, “It won’t pass! Something’s wrong, Miz Carol.!”
“Ay Yi, yi yi, canta no llores, (sing don’t cry, a Spanish song)” said Auntie Carol under her breath and promptly plunged her hand into Chiquita’s cunt, saying, “Forgive me for this impropriety, Dear.” She turned the baby around and it came busting out like Merry Christmas and All of God’s Heavenly Angels. The ambulence then arrived and the med tech congratulated her on a job well done and loaded Chiquita and her baby onto the stretcher and took her away.
When matters quieted down Lala said softly, “I aint knowed you spoke Spanish, Miz Carol.”
“Didn’t know, Dear, didn’t know. Well, I do what I can, Dear. And she wiped her brow with her scented linen kerchief with the monogram on it.
CAROL ANN writer of Poems of THunder (Noir&Whimsy) @ Amazon & Barnes&Noble.com