This short fiction story follows right after “Maybe Someday” which you should read first by clicking the link. “Ms. Annabelle” was originally posted Jan. 2007 somewhere else.
So being as no one pays no mind to me anyways, I finally decided to go explorin’, down the corner and around the bend. Sorta like Huck and Tom, or maybe even Lewis and Clark, ever notice that all the explorers are boys, ever wonder why? So I ran back to the house; well, being it’s so hot, more like loped, well sauntered; oh all right oozed back to the house. Satisfied now? Oozed, I like that, sorta like the pus oozed from a cut, like the time I stepped on some broken glass, I think it was a pop bottle, maybe cola; why is cola brown anyway, why not blue or purple or aquamarine even; I learnt that color in school from Ms. Annabelle.
Did I ever tells you about Ms. Annabelle? No? Shucks, she was everybody’s bestest teacher. I say was, cause she was sent away; reckon it was about in early springtime when the buds were bloomin’ and the ground gets that warm feelin’ till you dig down and the cold bones just grab your fingers. I do love the spring though; all the birds squawkin’ and fightin’. What a ruckus! And for what? Just so’s they can raise their youngin’s? No thanks; that’s what got Ms. Annabelle in trouble.
I used to love schoolin’, all the sums and writin’. Sometimes, I’s a take a book, and walk down to the my creek and open that book and just get lost in the words. The sun be beating down, burning, but hiding too behind the clouds. Ever look at clouds and see stuff in ‘em? Like dragons and clowns and wild horses. Never ridden a horse. Want to, maybe someday. Well one day, when I was splashin’ in the creek in my birthday suit; I heard a rustlin’ and a moaning off in the woods aways. I’s about crawled outta my skin and gosh, I moved so fast I think my clothes dried themselves; I was so scared.
Well, whata think it was? A bear? A fire breathing possum? No, it was much, much worse. Patsy Sue and Billy Lee was doin’ sumptin’ that involved all sorts of gyrations and mussing up their hair and they was kissing! Not kissing like at church; you know, the kiss you give people next to you, and it’s your Aunt with the false teeth and you be memberin’ the time they fell out, and so’s you get to gigglin’ and your mama pinches your arm and says be quiet or she’s gonna thrash your backside? This weren’t like that at all. It was disgustin’. Like road kill disgustin’. All mushed up and smelly. Gross.
So back to Ms. Annabelle. Turns out one night, the sheriff, thata be old man Watson, we call him Lumpy, cause he barely fits in his uniform. Turns out he was checkin’ on the school and he found the lights on; so’s he goes in and finds Ms. Annabelle with someone, rumors was it was crazy Al, but no way, cause he’s crazy. I mean, like you don’t want to meet in the dark crazy. So, the next week, when we come to school, there be somebody new, and he’s not nice. He said, chillrin, I be Mr. Jenkins, and I be your new teacher. I raised my hand and asked what happened to Ms. Annabelle. He said, none your business child.
I pestered momma that night till she finally gave in. She told me, don’t you ever breathe a word of this, but I heard from Mabel that it seems that Ms. Annabelle was seen kissing and that was bad. Ms. Annabelle weren’t supposed to be carryin’ on like no hussy and that’s why she left town. After dinner, I went out on the porch and sat in the swing and just thought about all of this. Kissing don’t be sumptin’ I rightly understand. Seems like all it ever does is get people in trouble. I ain’t never gonna be kissing nobody. Never, ya’ hear me?