Harpy & Julianne’s Tomato War, excerpt

Posted on March 9, 2016 by Janelle Hooper

Harpy & Julianne’s Tomato War
a short story
Purchase on Amazon

It’s spring! and I thought my readers who garden would like to see a few lines from my new short story. It isn’t on my website yet, but it is available on Amazon.

Harpy and Julianne’s Tomato War
Janelle Meraz Hooper

AN EXCERPT- 1970, Lawton, Oklahoma…On a street in the older part of town, Harpy & Julianne, two gardening senior citizens, wage war over seemingly little things like roses and tomatoes. The trouble began with nineteen cats and prize roses and culminated with a dog named Killer, a racehorse named Moon Dancer, tomatoes, and lemon cake.

“…Everyone had a hustle in their bustle and the air pulsed with excitement when it was Tomato Festival time in Julianne’s hometown of Lawton, Oklahoma. A parade began the festivities that was followed with a tomato-growing competition, and canning competition. Vendors of every sort lined both sides of the streets and artists set up white tents for their art show in the park under the leafy trees. Near the picnic tables, all of the different organizations sold food to raise money for their clubs. The polka club sold sausages and sauerkraut; the Flamenco Club sold a Mexican plate with beans, rice, and enchiladas; The Mahjong Club sold a stir-fry dish served over white rice; and the Comanches sold fry bread. Live music ranging from classical to blue grass floated over the excitement, each style melding into the next.
On the outdoor stage, music teachers held their students’ yearly recitals in music, voice, and dance. Next, children would line up on the same stage to show off their skills in the Asian martial arts, wrestling, and baton twirling. The fun would culminate in a barbecue and a street dance when the sun went down and it cooled off. While the adults danced, a big movie screen showed cartoons for the kiddies, most of whom fell asleep with homemade ice cream all over their faces before Tom caught Jerry or the Roadrunner outwitted the Coyote.
Julianne especially liked the parade. Luckily, the floats and marching bands always lined up on “A” Avenue, right in front of her house, so she had a front row seat without leaving her porch. It seemed that every year at least one of the floats had some sort of mechanical crisis—usually a flat tire—or a decoration that failed to stay put—or a sound system that didn’t work. Each time, the men on the parade committee would descend upon the float that threatened to hold up the start of the parade in an old pickup. Its back was filled with all kinds of quick-fix items known to be useful from years of experience: hammers, saws, staplers, rope, wire, two by fours, and especially duct tape. As soon as the crew would fix one problem, another distress call would come in from another float. Every crisis and its resolution made for great entertainment for Julianne and the friends she invited to share her front porch.
They were a happy bunch and they’d all been friends for years. Belle had been one of Julianne’s bridesmaids. Trude and Vera were sisters who each brought their husbands every year. And, of course, there was always Joe. Joe had gone to high school with Julianne and they’d both gone on to graduate from Cameron University together. Of course, it was just Cameron College back then. The guest list was the same every year and every year Julianne sent out handwritten invitations to Potluck on the Porch! BYOP (Bring your own pot!)
Harpy, Julianne’s cranky next door neighbor, never joined Julianne and her friends even though he was always invited. He stayed inside his house with the windows and doors closed saying that all the racket the kids made interfered with his baseball game. The stubborn man didn’t have air conditioning, and Julianne wondered how he could stand the heat in his little house with the doors and windows shut tight. It had to be sweltering in there. Maybe he filled his bathtub with ice cubes from his fancy refrigerator and listened to the baseball game on the radio in his bathroom. But it didn’t really matter to Julianne what he did…or why. Harpy was just like that. He didn’t like kids. He didn’t like her friends. He didn’t like Julianne. He especially didn’t like her cats! Other than not liking Julianne because of her cats, the only other reason she could figure out for his hostility toward her was he didn’t like it when she wore her nightgown and robe on her back porch when she fed her cats in the morning. “You’re dragging your robe through the cats’ water!” he was known to shout from his back porch. Why did he care? Why on earth he went into such a tailspin over a little wet lace around the bottom of her robe she’d never understand…”

Available on Amazon Kindle. Suitable for all ages.

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Old Joe’s Pink Cadillac- expanded version

Posted on March 8, 2016 by Janelle Hooper

Amazon

My website: Janelle Meraz Hooper

Dear Readers,

I’ve expanded my short story, Old Joe’s Pink Cadillac, and made it available on Amazon. Note: This is one of the back stories for my Turtle Trilogy (A Three-Turtle Summer, As Brown As I Want: The Indianhead Diaries, and Custer & His Naked Ladies).

A few lines from Old Joe’s Pink Cadillac, expanded version…

“…Ben’s effort to see that Joe was well and had everything he needed was always appreciated by the old guy. He didn’t have a phone, so on hot nights, Ben would walk across the alley to say hello and make sure the old man had ice for his icebox. During the summer, ice and water could be lifesavers when temperatures in the Oklahoma town could be over a hundred or more in the daytime during the summer, and the town’s senior citizens were sometimes known to suffer from dehydration.
Most of the time, Ben’s offer to bring Joe some ice wasn’t needed because Joe had bought a block of ice after work and had hand-carried it all the way home. Upon Ben’s arrival, Joe would pull two bottles of beer out of his icebox, and he and Ben would go outside and sit on Elizabeth’s hood to cool off. There, in the dark, they’d listen to the crickets chirp, and the cats fight and hiss at each other on the Victorian’s porch. Sometimes, houses away, they’d hear a couple squabbling until they both decided it was too hot to fight.
Too hot to love.
Too hot to sleep.
Eventually, cats and people would quiet down for the night, and Ben and Joe would be left under a star-filled sky with only the crickets, lightning bugs, and a few mosquitoes for company…”

Amazon Kindle, suitable for NA (New Adult) & up.

Author’s note: I drew on my memories of growing up in an Oklahoma town for this story. About 35,000 people without the army at the time, and less than 8 miles from Fort Sill.

Also new on Amazon: Harpy & Julianne’s Tomato War, Kindle. Suitable for all ages.

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Gets Tickled and the Fish Trap

Posted on December 31, 2015 by Janelle Hooper

This is one of my favorite stories. Sadly, due to world events, it’s always timely…

Gets Tickled and the Fish Trap
From the book Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories
Amazon-Paperback and Kindle.
Janelle Meraz Hooper
Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories, Amazon

Downtown Tacoma, the year 2100…
The injured veteran took a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and checked the address. This was it: 2121 Pacific. He stepped back and surveyed the shiny, black glass that fronted the structure. There was no sign above the door. Who ever heard of a bus station with no sign?

He shrugged and entered the building. Instantly, he found himself in a Northwest Country Bus Station—a company that had been gone for years—with empty wooden benches for waiting passengers on one side and a 1950s style luncheonette, complete with chrome stools and plastic counter, on the other. Even the waitress wore a starched pink uniform with white trim on the sleeves and a flower folded from a printed handkerchief pinned over the pocket. She smiled at him and motioned for him to sit in the chair nearest the cash register. He noticed that every seat at the counter was filled, but no one was eating. Instead, they all seemed to be waiting for something.

Somehow, the young vet felt that he was part of the reason for their wait, although he couldn’t imagine why. Another strange thing: all of the other diner patrons were Indians. They smiled as if they knew him. When he looked around some more, he saw that the view out the plate glass window had changed from the busy Pacific Avenue to a view of Commencement Bay that was actually behind them.

The waitress said softly as she passed the veteran, “You’re next, Honey. You take care now.”

He heard a rattle above his head, then a loud, girlish giggle. Looking up, he saw a huge Indian fish trap, woven out of twigs. The Indian next to him cried out in delight when a live salmon fell from the huge basket onto the counter in front of him. There hadn’t been any salmon in Puget Sound for years. The Indian picked up his thrashing fish, put it under his arm, and left. The next Indian moved up to sit in his place.

When the first fish fell, the veteran was sucked up into the trap. Just then, another vet came hesitantly through the door. The waitress smiled at him and motioned for him to sit in the first chair by the cash register. The waitress said softly as she went past him, “You’re next, honey, you take care now.”

The Indian next to him smiled and shook his hand. “I am Running Water. And you are Pete.”

“How did you know?”

“We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Why am I here? Where am I going?”

“Up there.” Running Water looked toward the fish trap.

Just then, there was a rattle up above, and a huge fish fell down in front of Running Water. At the same time, the vet felt himself being pulled up toward the ceiling. With a friendly wave, the Indian picked up his fish, put it under his arm, and left.

The next Indian moved up. Another soldier came through the door and was seated.

Meanwhile, Pete found it slow going as the trap narrowed. He was surprised that he wasn’t in pain. At the top, his head bumped against the inside of the lid of an old iron pot-bellied stove. The lid rattled as Gets Tickled opened it. With no effort, she pulled Pete through the small hole into her kitchen that had a huge pile of live salmon in the corner.

“Who’s down there now?” she asked Pete. “Oh, it’s Rock’s Hard,” she said as she peeked through the hole. “He and his wife are alone now.” She picked up a smaller fish and threw it down. Rock’s Hard waved and called, “Thank you, Gets Tickled.” A loud giggle answered him. He picked up his fish and went home.

The vet that was leaving the bus station just as Pete came in was still in Gets Tickled’s kitchen. Both men felt themselves pulled toward the beach outside Gets Tickled’s front door.

“Hi, I’m Pete.” Pete said to his fellow vet.

“Good to know you. I’m Charley. Have you noticed your pain is gone? Mine is.”

“Yeah. When I first felt myself being pulled toward that contraption downstairs, I was sweatin’ it. I’ve been in constant pain for months and I thought that being pulled up to the ceiling was going to kill me, but I didn’t even feel it.”

“The trip didn’t hurt me either.” Charley agreed.

Check this out,” Pete said to Charley as they approached two new lounge chairs, “lounge chairs with our names printed on them—just like Hollywood.”

The two stretched out in the comfortable chairs and felt the warm sun soak into their skin. Their clothing changed to swimsuits.

“There’s quite a few of us here. I have a feeling we’re all veterans.” Charley said as he looked around the beach. “Maybe we should go over and introduce ourselves.”

“Good idea. Just let me rest here for a little bit first. I want to savor this body that for the first time since the war isn’t hurting me anywhere.”

Pete fell asleep and Charley watched him softly breathe in and out. While Pete slept, another man appeared. So did a new lounge chair with the name “Frank.” Charley shook his hand and said hello.

“What the hell am I doing here?” the befuddled man asked. “First I’m getting off a plane in the middle of a desert, the next thing I know, I’m going through some crazy fish basket in a bus station diner.”

“Were you on duty there?” Charley asked.

“Hell, no, I was there to pick up the body of my brother. He was killed in the desert war.”

“You went over there to pick him up? That’s unusual.”

“I know, but my mother has some kind of crazy idea that a man’s spirit is still alive for days after he dies, and she didn’t want my brother to be alone. She begged me to go pick him up.”

“Talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. You must have been pegged as a vet who fit the criteria of the rest of us.”

“What criteria is that?”

“I don’t know.” Charley admitted. “We’re hoping to find out more later on tonight.”

“Are we dead?”

“We’re not alive. I know that because I’m no longer in pain. Are we dead? Don’t know. Must be.”

“This, whatever it is, is a mistake. I’ve got to get back. I’m not dead. I’m not even sick!”

Pete looked over to see that the whole crowd was moving toward tables laden with food. He was famished.

“Let’s go eat. Maybe we’ll find some answers while we’re over there.” Charley said.

Pete opened his eyes, saw the newcomer, and leaned over and shook Frank’s hand. Nothing after today would surprise him; he supposed that the newcomer got there the same way he did.

“Pete, this is Frank. We need to see if we can get him back down through that fish basket. He’s here by mistake.”

“Frank, you must have a hell of a story. I can’t wait to hear it, but let’s eat first.”

It was a happy group of soldiers that gathered around the food-laden table. The whole scene was like something out of a 50s beach movie.

“Hey, here he is, back from the frozen level,” a man named John waved to a friend. “I told you you’d be back.”

“Damn, it was so cold there I almost got frostbite on my nose. But it was beautiful.”

He turned to Frank, Charley and Pete, and explained as he shook their hands and said a quick hello, “Hi, I’m George. I got permission to go to a winter level because I’d never seen snow when I was on earth, and I wanted to experience it. John warned me that I wouldn’t like it.”

“There’s different levels?” Pete asked. “Where are we anyway?”

“That’s a common question around here. The best we can figure, we’re in some kind of a holding pattern for vets. Maybe some kind of a dimension/purgatory kind of thing. None of us really knows.” John loaded his plate while he talked.

“How long have you guys been here?” Charley asked.

George shrugged. “It’s hard to tell. Maybe minutes. Maybe days. We’re not sure if they have time here.”

“That’s fine for the rest of us, but Frank is here by mistake. How do we get him back on earth?” Charley asked.

“I don’t know of anyone who has ever gone back. Sometimes, one of us switches to another level just for fun, like George.” John laughed. “Frank, can you remember how you got here?”

“I was slightly injured while I was in the desert, but I wasn’t a soldier. My brother was killed over there.” Frank’s eyes searched the beach for his brother.

“Is his brother here?” Charley asked John.

“No, you guys are the only new men here. He could be on another level.”

“If he’s not here and not on another level, I wonder why not?” Pete asked. “Aren’t we all soldiers?”

“Yes, but if you look around, there’s not enough of us to account for all the battle deaths. We think that there’s a common thread that brings us all here, but we don’t know for sure what it is.”

“Is it possible that there’s a level we don’t know about? A … er … lower one?” Pete quietly asked, glancing at Frank.

“Could be. For right now, let’s try to figure out how to get Frank back home,” John suggested.

“Any ideas?” Charley asked.

“There is a girl here who seems to be the hostess. Maybe she’ll help us out with Frank. Here she comes now.” John lifted his arm and waved over a young woman wearing a swimsuit with a baggy khaki shirt pulled over the top for modesty. “Hey, Lauren, can we talk to you for a minute?”

“Hey, Guys, what’s up? Not enough food?”

“No problem there,” the man joked as he surveyed the laden table. “We’ve got a stowaway here. This is Frank. He’s not a soldier. He wasn’t even injured.”

“Where were you?” Lauren asked Frank.

“I was in the desert, picking up my brother’s body. He was the soldier.”

“Do you remember anything?”

“I just remember that I picked up a little boy who was crying and helped him find his mother. All of a sudden, I was flying up into some sort of basket. I ended up here.”

“I’ll see what I can find out.” Lauren made a note on her clipboard.

“Have you seen my brother?” Frank asked Lauren.

“No, Frank, I haven’t. I’m sorry. Only a few vets come here.”

“What few is that?” Charley broke in to ask.

“Only soldiers who were trying to save someone else’s life. We have other levels with soldiers from the other sides of the battle lines. We keep you guys separate so you can get some rest.”

“We’re dead and we still can’t get along?” Charley asked.

“Dead? What makes you think you’re dead? You’re just moved to a different level, away from your real body, while you either go through difficult surgery or recover from a coma. Didn’t you see your medical charts behind your lounge chairs?” Lauren pointed to a pocket in the back of each chair. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here to greet all of you, but we ran into a problem down on earth, and I had to go back.”

Turning to Frank she said, “Let me check this out. I’ll get back to you.”

Sometime during the night Lauren gently shook Frank’s shoulder. “Wake up, Frank. You were right. This was a mistake. You’re going home.”

“That’s great. How?”

“I’m going to have to guide you back down the fish trap. After you end up in the bus station, you’ll be on your own. While I’m down there, I have a pickup to make. There’s an Arab boy who would be too frightened to make the trip by himself. I’ll hand deliver him to the Mid-Eastern level. He could be the boy you helped.”

“What did he do?”

“He stepped in front of his mother to protect her from gunfire.”

“Sounds like him. When will he be able to go home?”

“He won’t. At eight-thirty tomorrow morning the whole Mid-East will be gone. Some maniac will use nuclear weapons and misjudge their power. Palestine, Israel, Iran, Iraq—all of them—will be contaminated for thousands of years.”

“Isn’t God going to stop it?”

“I don’t think so. From what I hear, He’s had it with all of them.”

“That’s a story to take back home.”

“Sorry. You won’t remember this conversation or this place when you get back to earth.”

Lauren’s voice began to fade and Frank began to hear his wife’s voice plead as she shook his arm, “Frank, Frank! Are you okay?”

Frank opened his eyes to find he was stretched out on a sidewalk on Pacific Avenue surrounded by 911 medics. Had it all been a dream?

“Honey, what are you doing in this part of town? We were supposed to pick you up at the airport—and where did you get this big fish—isn’t it a salmon?” his curious wife asked.

Frank looked over and saw a huge salmon flapping around next to him on the sidewalk. “Honey, I swear, I’ve never seen that fish before in my life,” he said.

No one but Frank heard the girlish giggle that floated down between the office buildings. A big smile moved across his face, but he didn’t know why.

The end

Read the book- This story was originally published in my short story book, Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories. Paperback and Kindle (etc.). Published by iUniverse. Suitable for YA and up.

My website: Janelle Meraz Hooper

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Christmas in the Antique District

Posted on December 12, 2014 by Janelle Hooper

7-01-09Kindle pie cover Free Pecan Pie on Amazon

From the Book Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories Amazon-Paperback and Kindle. Published by iUniverse.

Christmas in the Antique District

Janelle Meraz Hooper

Sandie opened the door to the basement closet of the antique store to get the artificial tree her boss had sent her after—and quickly shut it again. The tree was covered with rat droppings and, although the closet was dark at the back, she could hear movement that she was pretty sure wasn’t reindeer.
Oh, Lordy! What am I going to do? Sandie thought. She needed her job, but her mind and body both rebelled at going anywhere near that disease-infested tree.
Looking for a way out, she ran over in her mind what her boss, Rodney, had said that morning as he descended the stairs from his apartment: “Today, we decorate for Christmas! When you get a chance, go down to the basement closet and get the tree!”
Well. There wasn’t much wiggle-room there, unless she got so busy that she couldn’t leave the shop floor to go downstairs. She knew that wasn’t likely.
“Where’s the tree?” Her boss asked when she came up empty-handed.
“I thought I heard customers up here,” she lied.
“Yeah, some coffee-sippers came in, but they left,” he said, as he took a big gulp of his rum and Coke.
“About the tree,” Sandie said hesitantly, “when I was taking it out, I saw it had rat droppings all over it, so I left it there.”
“Oh, just take the tree out and beat it on the sidewalk—they’ll come right off. It’ll look great when the lights are on it. It always does.”
What she had to do, Sandie decided, was distract her boss until the assistant manager, Laurie, came in. She was a friend and would be a lot more sympathetic to her qualms about getting rabies from a Christmas tree than Rodney was—she was sober. Sandi hoped Laurie came in soon; if she didn’t, it was going to be a long day. Luckily, Rodney discovered that his glass was empty, and he went back upstairs to his apartment to fill it.
For the rest of the day, Sandie sat on a platform at her hostess desk and watched the Christmas tapestry of the rich, poor, and homeless run up and down the Seattle sidewalks. The windows in the store ran from floor to ceiling, so she had a panoramic view of the trendy area filled with antique shops.

There was a cold wind, and the street people leaned over their shopping carts that held all of their possessions to keep the sharp wind from biting their faces. One man had tied a rumpled Christmas ribbon to his cart. As a homeless woman hurried by with her basket piled so high with black plastic sacks that she couldn’t see over it, the wind blew open her scarf that was wrapped around her face, and exposed a black eye. One of the street people was in the middle of the street, poised as if to run a race. Puzzled, Sandie didn’t realize until the last second that he intended to ram, headfirst, into her store’s large window. It happened so fast; within seconds, he charged the shop window, and left Sandie with nothing to do but scream. The man’s head hit the glass full force, but the glass didn’t break. The impact shook the whole building, and Rodney leaned out of his apartment door to see what had happened.
“What was that noise?” he asked.
Just then, the man hit the window again. Didn’t he know how dangerous glass was? Chances were that he wouldn’t just cut his head, he could decapitate himself!
“Oh, that happens a lot this time of year,” Rodney nonchalantly said when he looked at the dazed man. As he turned to go back to his kitchen, he said, “It’s cold out. He’s trying to get arrested so he’ll have a warm place to sleep tonight. Don’t worry; he won’t break the window. It’s a special glass that wouldn’t break if he had a hammer. And don’t worry about him coming in here to keep warm while you’re alone. They all know they can’t come in here. I’ve taught them that much.”
Sandie’s heart was still thumping violently as the dazed man stumbled down the sidewalk in search of an easier window to break. All day she spent anxiously watching windows and doors: the window in case the street person returned, the front door so she could catch the assistant manager as soon as she got back from her furniture set-up, and the door to Rodney’s apartment. It had gotten very quiet upstairs. Apparently, he’d passed out for the afternoon.
There were few customers, so she had lots of time to think. What would she do if she had to go get that tree and beat it on the sidewalk in front of half of Seattle? She decided she had no options. She’d do it, if she had to; she needed the minimum-pay job. She wouldn’t be happy about it though. Once, she’d had a good middle-class life, but now she was on a long financial slide after a lengthy illness, and she dreaded the extra humiliation of having to beat that turd-infested tree on the sidewalk.
A few minutes before closing, Sandie gathered her things. The assistant manager came through the door just as she was putting on her coat.
“Laurie—we need to talk. Rodney wants me to put up the Christmas tree and it’s full of rat droppings.”
“Oh,” Laurie laughed, “he says that every year, and every year I go out and buy a tree out of petty cash and put it up. He never even notices that the tree is real. Don’t worry about it; I’ll pick one up tomorrow.”
On her way to her car, Sandie walked alongside some homeless people pushing their carts. She had a couple of bucks in her pocket, so she looked for the man who had tried to break the shop window, but she didn’t see him. Maybe he had succeeded in getting arrested. She hoped so. It was sure to get down to the twenties before the night was through.

She felt guilty that she’d been so upset over a silly tree. But who could say? Every homeless person started from some point in his life. Maybe that Christmas tree in the basement closet would have been her first step.

This story and other holiday short stories can be found in my mixed media book, Free Pecan Pie and Other Chick Stories, paperback and Kindle. Suitable for YA and up, clean. Popular with teachers. Published by iUniverse.

Merry Christmas! Janelle

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Chapter 5, Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie, sample chapter

Posted on November 2, 2014 by Janelle Hooper

Comment from a reader on Amazon

5.0 out of 5 stars-Best Yet!
September 16, 2011
Format: Kindle Edition
A romantic ribbon weaves its way through a latticework of exotic pets, jewelry, and Northwest cuisine including cherry pie! All of this against the backdrop of urban Seattle. Janelle Meraz Hooper’s sense of humor and descriptive dialogue keeps you smiling. Reggae describes what happens to snakes in Jamaica. ” …but whenever anyone finds one over deh, dem beat it until it’s so flat it’s halfway to being a belt.” The author also adds drama based on a Washington State natural disaster, making this love story her best yet!

Lily lives on the third floor of The Zoo–an apartment building catering to tenants who have exotic pets. Lily doesn’t have a turtle or iguana, but she has Mike, her new boyfriend, who may be the most exotic pet of all! Humor, romance.

Paperback & Kindle! Suitable for NA (New Adult) and up.

YouTube: Book trailer for Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie

To see the book on Amazon

Chapter 5. Goodnight, Princess Lily

They ate at a restaurant on the waterfront that had served Northwest seafood since Bill Boeing launched his first airplane from Lake Union. Mike ordered a bucket of steamed clams, and Lily ordered crab cakes. It was late, so the dinner rush was over. Their main entrée arrived before they’d finished their appetizer of fried calamari.

Over dinner, Mike raised concerns over Lily’s bathroom guest. “That’s an awfully big snake. Big enough to be dangerous. What was his name?”

“Boogie. Velma likes to dance.”

“Where does he live?”

“On my floor, just around the corner.”

“Why do you think he went to your apartment?” he asked as he worked his way to the bottom of his bucket of clams. “You don’t have anything he could make a lunch out of—except you.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m serious,” Mike persisted. “I saw a television documentary on anacondas in the Amazon, and a huge snake watched a group of scientists walk through a shallow marsh and waited for several men to pass until a female scientist went by small enough for him to handle. When the woman passed him, it came up out of the water and grabbed her.” Mike pulled away from the table and gave Lily an appraising look. “What are you? About a size two?”

“Mike! You don’t seriously think Boogie is stalking me? Maybe he was really after my big green elephant, or the rabbit from next door.”

“I know it’s pretty far-fetched. But what else could be drawing him to your apartment?” he drummed his fingers on the tablecloth as he thought. “Tell me about that rabbit. Does he ever come over to your place?”

“Bomber?”

Mike interrupted her, “Are you kidding me? Boogie and Bomber?”

“Well, he leaves bunny bombs sometimes.”

“Okay. Go on,” Mike grinned.

“Well, Bomber visits frequently. He’s a sweet little creature. Other people have dust bunnies under their bed. I have the real thing. I buy those little peeled carrots for him at the grocery store.”

“Bingo! That rabbit’s scent must be all over your apartment. Boogie is using your flat as a hunting ground. Maybe he can’t get into the apartment where Bomber actually lives.”

“Probably not. There’s no cat flap at Barbara’s.”

“Cat flap?!” Mike almost screamed. “There’s a cat flap on your front door? Funny, I didn’t notice it.”

“Well, it’s been painted white to match the door. And it is blocked. At least it’s blocked enough so a cat can’t get in.”

“I bet a snake wouldn’t need as much room as a cat. I’d better look at it tonight. I don’t think your snake’s owner can be trusted to control her pet. It’s lucky for me Boogie doesn’t eat cherry pie.”

“You’re going to eat more pie?!”

“It’s okay,” Mike said with a devilish grin, “sooner or later I’ll work it off.”

Lily caught her breath, but said nothing. She wasn’t willing to open herself up to ridicule over her virginity in a conversation over an empty clam bucket. She had a late start getting into the dating scene to begin with, and just when she’d started college, she’d lost her mother, and then, her aunt. When most girls were sneaking boys into their dormitory rooms, Lily was struggling with the loss of her family and being homeless. For now, she’d keep her family history to herself.

When they got to the door of Lily’s apartment, the missing snake sign was off the door and a shaky Boots was standing guard.

“Good evening, Boots,” Lily said.

Mike stopped in place and waited expectantly for an explanation of the lizard’s name.

“The landlady is Jamaican and she says she’s just keeping him around until he’s big enough for her to make a pair of boots.” While she spoke, she picked a couple of hibiscus blooms from the plant by the door and tossed them to the big lizard as they passed by. Boots pounced on the blossoms like they were live prey.

“What else does he eat?” Mike wanted to know as he gave the creature a wide berth.

“Oh, he’s strictly a vegetarian. But he can get cranky and bite. He’s been more agitated than usual lately. I think Boogie has him spooked. He used to be the toughest kid on the block. Now, he’s got competition and I think he might feel threatened.”

“In a fight with a constrictor, which one would win?” Mike wondered.

Lily shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t know. Boots might be the loser strictly because of his gentle personality. I don’t think he has the killer instinct of a snake. One of the tenants upstairs has a friend at the Woodland Park Zoo. He’s going to take him to lunch and see what he can find out.”

Mike looked at the cat flap and Lily put on tea and served the last of the pie. “What do you think, am I snake meat?” she asked Mike when he came into the kitchen.

“Lily, there’s no wooden frame on that flap. It’s closed on the top and bottom, but it’s loose around the sides. It looks like a homemade job, or else it’s very old.” Then, he asked, “Do you have any duct tape?” When Lily produced a roll from a kitchen drawer, he said, “I’m impressed. I never would have guessed someone as dainty as you would have duct tape in her kitchen drawer.”

Lily whispered, “I even have a hammer.” She heard a low, appreciative whistle in response.

Mike wrapped the silver tape around the cat flap opening several times. “It’s not pretty, but it’ll do until we come up with another solution.”

He started to sit down at the table, but he was still uneasy. He got up and started walking around the apartment. He looked in the closet, bathroom, and under the bed. “I don’t know how you can be so calm. I’m six feet, and a hundred and sixty pounds, and I’d be afraid to sleep here.”

“I think you’ve solved my problem, I’ll be okay now,” Lily said with false bravado.

“Maybe we should hang a Boogie bell over the flap, to announce the snake if he manages to wiggle in again,” he said with a laugh. “Have you got one in that drawer?” he asked, with a nod toward the drawer the duct tape was in.

“Fresh out,” Lily admitted.

There was one piece of pie left. When Lily offered it to Mike, he studied it carefully. He picked it up, turned it slowly around, and seemed to calculate its size. Then he looked up and asked, “Are you still a good girl?” When Lily nodded yes, he said with a laugh, “Then I’d better pass.”

When he left that night, he kissed Lily warmly and whispered in her ear, “Lily, I’m not a lech, but I’m not a monk, either.” Then, he winked and said, “Call me if you run out of duct tape.”

“I don’t have your number,” Lily said weakly.

“I left my card under your phone,” he said with a grin.

Lily abandoned her brave front once Mike was gone. Before she climbed into her bed, she searched the apartment again to double check for Boogie. He couldn’t be loose again already, she told herself. Velma wouldn’t be so careless when she knew she and the snake were so close to being evicted. Surely, she knew finding another snake-friendly apartment wouldn’t be easy. Still, she opened cupboard doors and rechecked her closets.

When she locked her patio doors, she heard some rustling in the big tree that grew alongside her building; she had an uneasy feeling, and scolded herself for becoming afraid of everything, even the killer squirrels in the trees.

She had crawled into bed and shut off the lights when suddenly she remembered Mike said he’d left his business card underneath her phone. She turned on her bedroom lamp and went into the living room.

When she picked up the phone, there was nothing there. She must have misunderstood him.

Disappointed, she crawled back into bed and turned off the lamp. Seconds later, she switched the lamp back on and looked under her bedroom phone. There it was. He must have put it there when he was checking to make sure Boogie hadn’t gotten back in. On the front of the card, he’d circled his home and mobile phone number. On the back, he’d written, “Call me anytime. Day or night. I mean it, Lily.”

She turned out the lamp and tried to go to sleep, but she couldn’t get comfortable. Her pillow was lumpy. She turned on her lamp one last time and lifted it up to see what was there. She found a bracelet box with another silk sack. Inside this one was a black-enameled silver-toned snake bracelet with red rhinestone eyes.

He might still be on the road. She dialed his mobile number. When he answered, he laughed.

“You found it.”

“I did. It’s wonderful. Thank you so much.”

“It’s not one of my pieces; it’s one of my competitor’s designs, but we’re friends. I thought you’d get a laugh out of it. You don’t have to wear it, it was just for fun.”

“I will wear it. It’s so cute,” then she shyly added, “and it’s from you.”

“I don’t suppose I can come back?” Mike teased.

“Sorry. I’m all out of cherry pie, anyway.”

“Next, I’m getting you a rhinestone chicken,” he said as he made playful chicken noises.

“Very funny. Good night, and thank you again.”

“Good night, Princess Lily.”

Oh! Never in her whole life had a man called her princess. Lily snuggled down deep in her blankets. She didn’t hear the surprised cry of a squirrel in the tree outside her window.

Honorable mention, 2014 Animals, Animals, Animals Book Contest, Wild Card category, NA (New Adult) & up. See more: www.JanelleMerazHooper.com

Dear reader, I hope you enjoyed this chapter from Boogie, Boots, & Cherry Pie. If so, please consider tweeting it! Many thanks, Janelle

Paperback and Kindle. Published by CreateSpace. Suitable for New Adult and up. New Adult is the reader designation that comes after Young Adult; it’s fairly new.

I met one of my readers at Campbell Resort in
Washington State on Lake Chelan.

Thanks for stopping by! Janelle

Janelle Meraz Hooper, author

Literary blog

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