by Nina Watson
It was a chilly autumn night in Maplebottom, but the heat in
the barn was positively tropical. It was a see of worn denim, checked shirts
and novelty cowboy hats on the heads of all the regular Maplebottom dancers. Susan Hornslade was stripping her willow all
over the barn and Pam Turner was behind the refreshment table, as usual,
handing out plates of questionable cuisine that she’d concocted. Madge Greene
was subtly trying to do-si-do her way over to the chairman of the Village
Council who, in turn, was quite obviously promenading very quickly away from
the busybody. Fiona Port was watching on with an amused little smirk on her
face as she waited for her elderberry gin to slowly take effect on the
participants. The drink was sinful really, sweet as summer and deadly like no
other, Fiona’s gin was known to take a toll on a person for quite a while. With
such vigorous moves being thrown on the dance floor, everyone had guzzled the
gin down like it was water and Fiona had felt slightly conflicted about keeping
mum on the potency of her gin. Oh well, she thought, everyone was old enough to
look after themselves….
“Pam. Pam. PAM!” Madge shouted from the hay bale which she
was currently trying to stay upright upon. Pam, not much better, was currently gripping
her husband Andrews shirt in an iron fist and trying to put one foot in front
of the other all the way over to Madge’s bale. “Pam, I love you I really really
do. I’m so jealous of you and I don’t know why I’m telling you that but I am.
Pam it’s the jam. Ha! That rhymed, anyway I just need to tell you that your jam
for the jamboree was amazing, honestly beautiful.” Madge threw her arms around
Pam with such force that both women flew off the hay bale into a giggling mess
on the floor. Susan, God bless Susan, was twirling gaily by herself in the
middle of the barn dancing to the band who had also started to feel the gin,
judging by the frequent bum notes from the banjo. Men and women were hunched
lazily together slurring and stumbling and trying as hard as they can to keep
their eyes open. Fiona sat with a contented smile on her face with her head
resting on her palm, knowing that this years barn donate would go down in
history. She couldn’t help but wonder how many attendees there would be at
church tomorrow morning…
Comments
Post a Comment
Comments with names are more likely to be published.