A 3-foot long yellow strip from an old crime scene
A milk-glass chicken
One burned picket in the old picket fence.




It must have been my daughter's nefarious doings. She is crazy about milk-glass chickens.

On Tuesday morning, the local news station was rife with stories about the old widow Malarky. Ms. Malarky was a miserly old lady, almost 90, who expected to take her many treasures with her to the afterworld. She had a nasty disposition and was known to cheat local vendors and swipe what she wanted when no one was looking. Well, it turned out that old man, Red Herring, lived down the road and had a life-long grudge against Mary Malarky. In a drunken stupor, he invaded the widow's home, bashed her with a bat and stole her silver teapot. By the time my daughter came upon the scene, there was yellow police tape surrounding Mary Malarky's house and a crime investigation was underway. The body had been transported to the local morgue for autopsy.

Late that night, my daughter silently tip-toed out of her house and rolled her car quietly down the hill to Mary Malarky's property. All she could think of was Mary's extensive collection of milk glass. With no surviving relatives, who would miss a few pieces of milk glass?

My daughter, who I will not name, removed an old charred picket from Mary's fence and gained entrance to the property. (Mary had scorched the picket while burning leaves last fall). She took the scissors out of her jacket pocket and cut the tape that was across the front door. It was a dark, moonless night, so she had no fear of being discovered. She creeped into Mary Malarky's dining room, opened the doors of the old-fashioned cupboard and removed four milk-glass chickens from the shelves.

My daughter thinks I am dumb. She tells me she found the milk-glass chickens at a flea market in Vermont, but I know better. You see, before we had a falling-out, Mary Malarky and I were friends. I had been to tea at her home many times and I had my eye on those milk-glass chickens for myself. But my daughter beat me to them.

 

Frannie (Frannie516@aol.com)



August 2004

 



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