“What’s that smell?” she taunted.

He shivered in her cold. He thought to say, “the smell of fear” but he was too alarmed to speak. He allowed his silence to permeate their air.

"What's that smell?" she sniffed dramatically, "Harry, is that smell you? Did you bath in Papa's cologne?!"

"Maaa."

"You got the knot right. Oh, I hated it when my Ma did it but, Harry, you look so handsome!" she sniffed back tears. She reached out and needlessly straightened the points on his collar. "You even polished your church shoes!"

"Louisa! Can we get this show on the road" Armed with the camera bag, a diaper bag, Robbie grabbed the car keys off the counter and yelled up the back stairs "Ramon! Alma! Freddie! Teresa! Now, please!"

The tattoo of little feet pounded down the stairs and a flutter of organza gathered around Rob's knees. "Papa, am I pretty! Look, I am a fairy princess!" "Papa, Ramon didn't clip on his tie! I have my tie on! Look, Papa!"

Louisa backhanded a stray tear off her cheek, careful not to smear her eyeliner and gave Harry's cheek a cupping. "My confirmation boy!" She turned to the playpen "M'ijo, up we go, Cheerio! Ah, look at your big brother, Raul. Isn't Harry a treat?" She took a quick sniff. "Ah, good boy! Mama doesn't have time to change diapers, now!" She grabbed a cloth off the counter and wiped a stray drool off the teething toddler's face and handed his sippy cup to Alma "M'ija, keep track of this for me."

She looked over all the little heads at her husband and smiled. He blew her a kiss. "Okay, everyone onboard! Ramon, make sure Freddie's seatbelt is fastened. Alma, oh! You have the sippy. Let me get this stuff in the back and I check you and Teresa while Mama does Raul's. Harry, you ride shotgun. Mama will ride back with the girls, this time."

Harry looked at his family, sniffed, smiled and got proudly in the front passenger seat.

What’s that smell? I wondered. Then I realized it was wax. The custodian had waxed the hallway outside my office. How would I be able to get out now?

I looked at the floor, covered in wet goo. It looked like shellac. I’d been holed up in the office for hours and was just thinking it was time to stop, go home and make a nice dinner. Spicy shrimp on couscous maybe with a spinach salad, but now it looked as though I’d be eating the rest of the wheat crackers I’d had stashed in my desk drawer for a couple of months.

“Jack?” I hollered down the hall of the empty school building. “Can anybody hear me? Jack?”

Guess he’d moved out of range on his waxing mission. Who knew they waxed the floors during spring break. Neat freaks—couldn’t wait till the end of the year? I looked out my window and wondered if I could jimmy the screen and get out that way. Nah, I’d already ripped the speaker off the office wall last week. Who knew the darn thing would just come right off the wall like that. I was trying to peek behind it and see if I could stuff a band-booster tee shirt back there to muffle the excruciating volume. I stopped the volume for sure—forever. Better not risk breaking the screen.

The office looked different to me now that I was stuck in it. It looked devoid of entertainment. For sure I decided I was bringing in a CD player and some quality snacks on Monday. I checked the little office frig and found that my secretary had cleaned it out. Not one thing was in there. I’d come armed with sugar-free chocolate pudding, Greek yogurt and diet coke on Monday.

Just as I was starting to get depressed I heard a door down the hall. I slammed shut the frig door and yelled out, “Jack!”

My principal looked at me and sadly nodded his head, from a non-waxed section down the hall. “How’d you get waxed in?” he asked.

“It’s unclear. Can you help me?”

“Yes, I’ll find Jack. You owe me though.”

“Thank you. Oh and you should know that I was going to wait here patiently and not break out through the screen.”

What’s That Smell?

“What’s that smell?” Kristin Lumpkin asked her cousin Barbi. They shared a pew closer to the back than to the front. All the old folks and the important people were in the front rows, close to the open coffin. Reclining on a lining of electric blue, his upper body slightly raised, old Rupert Granden, dead at 90, commanded the attention of all assembled as he had in life.

“I didn’t smell it before, did you?”

Barbi shook her head. “It just arrived, somewhere in back of us.” She wrinkled her nose in protest.

They didn’t want to turn around and look. It was a flowery smell that gave flowers a bad name – sticky, sweet, heavy and overpowering.

“Someone took a bath in cheap perfume,” Barbi said. “Lily of the Valley, I’d say, with an undertone of sweat and sex.”

Kristin clapped a hand over her mouth. But who the hell would Uncle Rupert know with such a lack of taste?

The church was packed with politicians, lodge brothers, lawyers and family – including favorite sons and grand-nephews expecting to come into a little cash.

She couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Isn’t there a clock on the wall over the door?” Kristin asked her cousin. “I’ll just casually glance back as if I’m checking the time.”

You couldn’t miss her. She stood out like a Technicolor cartoon on page 1 of The New York Times. She was a busty young woman in a low-cut white lace sundress. Surely those enormous pearls were not real. Or were they? Her long red hair could have even been natural. Artfully, but vividly lip-glossed and blush-ed, her full lips were relaxed in a smile that held a secret. Her “done” nails were laced over her crossed knees and she floated her gorgeous head with confidence.

Barbi and Kristin poked each other and snickered.

“The family might be in for a few surprises when Great-Uncle Rupert’s will is read next week” Barbi told her cousin.

“Just how great was he, do you suppose?” Kristin answered.

perm - nice and natural! I loved the "gathering" of organza.

Westerly - love it! First funny of the day! "she stood out like a Technicolor cartoon on the first page of the New York Times." "How great was he, do you suppose?" Priceless.

"What's that smell?" Oh, it's me and I'm sweating and heart pounding as I reach the road, cars roaring, puffing exhaust fumes. He's mad so he'll be close behind. I start walking, shoes tugged by the melting tar.

"Hey, girl, wanna ride?"

"No, thanks, mister."

Car speeds off, tires spitting. Gravel kicks my shin and I spit on the hot spot.

Gas station's not far. Maybe Ned'll be there with the key to the soda box. Ice cold would taste real good right now, my stomach's still dry from last night's crackers.

"Girl, get in."

My heart jumps and I double sweat.

"No, mister, go'way."

Car stays by me, I can't see my shadow, it's too big.

"Girl."

I start to run, into the scratchy grass, pack slamming against my back, bouncing off my kidneys.

Car door slams.

Wonder when Daddy's coming.