She Holed Up in Mexico

That was the writing prompt for our writing group, PenPals, and one of our members, Sharon Scordecchia, wrote this fun-filled story using the prompt:

She Holed Up In Mexico



He was lookin’ outta the window, his back to me, as I entered the room. FBI his jacket announced.
Fat But Interesting or Federal Bureau of Irritation? I’ll find out soon enough I thought as I sat down on the dining chair that had been positioned away from the table.
“I’d just like to ask you a few questions Miss, ah, what is your name?”
“Miss Sarah Jessica Parker the third,” I replied politely.
“You come from a long line of Sarah Jessica Parkers,” he observed.
“There are three of us and yes, I’m the third.” Definitely the Bureau of Irritation I decided.
“How long have you worked for the Witherspoon’s, Miss Parker?”
I thought for a moment, “‘Bout two years, I’d say.”
“So you’d notice if something unusual happened in this house?”
“I’m only here twice a week, Sir. We does the upstairs on a Monday, that’s today, and we does the downstairs on a Friday.”
“We: you and Mrs Hudson, the other cleaner?”
I nodded, even more irritated.
“I’d like you to think carefully, Miss Parker,” he eyeballed me, “Did anything unusual catch your attention when you were in on Friday, or this morning, for that matter?”
I studied the beads of perspiration in the cleft of his chin, on his top lip, on the tip of his nose. “Well depends what you call unusual, Sir, ‘cos see, in my family we got plenty unusual, only we thinks it’s normal ‘cos we’s used to it. Take my sister Mel – she smokes a pipe. Other folk’s thinks that’s unusual. Or Uncle Harry, he don’t talk to nobody but God on a Sunday. You mean that sort of unusual?”
Fat Bureau of Irritation looked at me like he agreed that all ma family stuff was pretty unusual so I wondered whether I should tell him about one of the wardrobes upstairs; that it was filled floor to ceiling with large, medium and small packs of incontinence pads. Or whether I should tell him that this mornin’, when I’d opened the French windows up wide, stripped the bed and began to turn the mattress, the room had filled with hundreds of green butterflies, all blowin’ about on the breeze. I wondered if I should tell Mr FBI I’d had to turn the vacuum cleaner up full to vacuum them nuisance things up.
FBI sighed. “If you think of anything, Miss Parker the third, could you give me a call on this number?” He pushed a card towards me.
“There is one thing happened.”
His eyebrows rose, hopeful.
“Mrs Witherspoon senior, she had an accident last week, tripped over the dog. And her bein’ real old an’ all, it was worse than it looked. She got her leg all in plaster cast now.”
The Bureau of Irritation looked at me like that just wasn’t unusual enough for him.
“Anyway, what is unusual, Sir is that there’s a definite rustlin’ sound when she moves now, you know, when she’s getting in an’ outta her wheelchair and hobblin’ about.”
“A rustling sound, you say?”
“Hm,” I nodded. “Kinda like the sound of …leaves rustlin’or money rustlin’. In fact, Sir, Av’ bin wonderin’if they put that plaster cast on prop’ly at the hospital. When ma cousin Finn had his plaster cast on it sure didn’t make no rustlin’ noise, just more of a thud, thud, thud, y’know?
FBI stared at me for a long time till it was almost becomin’ rude, till I almost couldn’t resist the urge to lean across and wipe that moisture off his nose with ma big orange duster. “You can go back to your work now Miss Parker. You’ve been very helpful,” he muttered, just in time.
From the French windows upstairs I watched as ol’ Mrs Witherspoon was helped into the Bureau of Irritation’s vehicle along with her daughter in law and whisked off down the drive an’ through the magnificent wrought iron gates.
“You done in there yet?” Hudson’s voice yelled from downstairs.
“Yup,” I shouted, “Just gonna change this vacuum bag.” I took the bag out and wrapped my overall round it and stuffed it in my shoppin’ bag.
As I walked downstairs swingin’ my bag Hudson glowered up at me. “I dunno what you said to that detective, Sarah, but he’s taken them Missus Witherspoon’s away. And the last thing Mrs Witherspoon junior growled at me was, “You’re fired, you and her!” She meant you, Sarah.”
I wore my most indignant expression. “An’ after me doin’ them a favour an’ all! That Federal Bat Investigator is probably takin’ them to hospital to get ol’ missus W’s cast put on properly, Mrs H, ‘cos when I told him about the loud rustlin’ sound it makes when Mrs W senior moves I could tell he thought the same as me, that it’s unusual.”
Mrs H looked at me and shook her head, her damp curls comin’ to life and bouncin’ about. “Honey, that rustlin’ noise is Mrs W senior’s incontinence pads, tha’s all. What that detective is lookin’ for is money. These folks we been workin’ for is into money launderin’ ‘n’ stuff, nothin’ you or I knows anything about.”
“Huh,” I said, “Wha’d’ya know. And now we’re outta work, just like that.”
“See ya around, Sarah, honey,” she sighed, dismissing me with a wave as she walked off down the drive.
I pulled the door to, listening to the solid click as it locked shut, and began walking slowly down the curved steps to the gravel drive. Perhaps I should’ve run after Mrs Hudson. Perhaps I should’ve shouted, “Hey, Mrs H, I’m gonna be holed up in Mexico for a while,” told her that I was gonna be holed up in Mexico, eatin’ tacos and guacamole, with a vacuum bag full of crushed butterflies, butterflies with pretty green patterned wings.
I squeezed the shopping bag and heard the comfortin’ sound: the rustle of thousands of dollars, dollars that’d all been hibernatin’ under a mattress, green dollar bills that for a few seconds had scattered and flown ‘bout freely with the summer breeze, only to be ruthlessly captured by the sudden violent vortex of the vacuum cleaner I’d been wieldin’.
“Nothing unusual about that rustle, Mr FBI,” I sang under my breath, “No Sir, there’s never any mistakin’ the rustle of money.”


Great, isn’t it?

Show Sharon some love and leave her a comment 🙂



10 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. K. Meador
    May 30, 2014 @ 18:02:18

    I really like the twist in this one 🙂

    Liked by 1 person


  2. teagankearney
    May 30, 2014 @ 19:55:37

    Lovely humour, Sharon, and there were lots of touches I enjoyed – the FBI, the names you chose and I loved those butterflies! Thanks for sharing this story, Christine.

    Liked by 1 person


  3. Anonymous
    May 31, 2014 @ 00:14:41

    This was very funny and entertaining.

    Liked by 1 person


  4. Yolanda Isabel Regueira Marin
    Jun 01, 2014 @ 09:42:21

    Nice work, I enjoyed the reference to butterflies.

    Liked by 1 person


  5. Jeelyjar
    Jun 02, 2014 @ 11:57:41

    Well, ya know, I sees me a book there. Miss SJP III sounds jis like the kinda gal who’d be off havin’ all sortsa unusual adventures. But, then again it kinda depends on what you mean by unusual……… 😉

    Loved it, as I do with all your writing, Sharon xxxxx

    Liked by 1 person


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