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Counting the minutes

28 Mar

They were in the queue.  Dressed in their  jumpers with the  peter pan collar blouses, white socks and saddle shoes, hair long, short, straight, curly, pocket books slung over bowed shoulders.  They were all talking to silently to themselves, figuring out the what and the how many’s and putting on their most contrite faces.  God they all hated Fridays.

Slowly the line crept.  Mother Superior stood in front, calculating the time and keeping count, for that was her job. Prior engagements had been scheduled and anyone not getting in the booth before 3pm would just be out of luck for Sunday.  Father, she knew,  would be outta there like a dove outta heaven when the clock struck and any leftover souls not washed, pressed and folded neatly so to speak, were just in danger of having to tote those sins another whole week.  That was unacceptable, muttered Mother Superior as she rolled her eyes, absolutely un-act-ceptable!

Ruler lightly tapping away the seconds on her palm, she kept a close eye on the line.   Mary, the class pet was wrapping it up in there, it never took her very long anyway, such a good girl.  Cynthia was next  and finally Samantha ( never to be called by that ungodly name for a girl, Sam) was bringing up the rear.  Two to go and it was already 2:50.  That was going to be cutting it close.  Cynthia she wasn’t too concerned about, but then there was Samantha.  Trouble……..with a Capital T…… just like that lively little jig of a song in that cute musical.  OMG….. Mother Superior realized she had started humming….and was mortified.

Cynthia zipped in behind curtain number two and Samantha, Mother Superior now realized, was using her fingers to count.  A shaking of  Mother’s  habit-ed head was a sign of grave concern that the “how many’s” might be a problem today for Father and his last teen-aged sinner.  The clocked ticked off a few more minutes and Cynthia reappeared, smiling most repentantly as she scurried over to the railing to kneel in  prayer… and then it was time for Samantha.

Behind the curtain she went, twirling her dark hair and grinning like a Cheshire cat that had eaten the canary whole.   She too was watching the clock and she had figured out her “whats and how many’s”  while she stood in front of Mother Superior and was rip snort-en and ready to go, after all it was Friday afternoon.

As quick as she was in she was out again, a faint whistle under her breath as she, almost with a skip..most inappropriate for church, passed by Mother Superior.   Guilt followed along behind  and Mother had to stop herself from her shaking her finger over the sins she knew were being saved for next weeks confession.  Well, she thought to herself, evidently Father wasn’t the only one here with prior engagements for a Friday afternoon.

On Location, Monday:

In front of the counter

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Posted by on March 28, 2011 in Flash Fiction, humor, Southern Humor

 

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