Read Pink Flamingoed Online

Authors: Steve Demaree

Tags: #Christian Books & Bibles, #Literature & Fiction, #Romance, #Humor, #Religion & Spirituality, #Fiction, #Humor & Satire, #General Humor, #Religious & Inspirational Fiction, #Christian Fiction, #Teen & Young Adult

Pink Flamingoed (5 page)

BOOK: Pink Flamingoed
9.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
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“Oh, by the way, I forgot to tell you what time church
starts.”

“It starts at 10:30. Right?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

“I noticed it on the sign in front of the church. You
see, I’m an observant Christmas caroler. One has to be because sometimes one’s
tour guide forgets to give all of the necessary information.”

Amy took her cloth napkin, wadded it up and fired it
at the man sitting across from her, who fired his back at her.

“A fine way to treat your hostess!” Amy said smiling,
but doing her best to act indignant.

“And a fine way to treat your guest!” Brad shot back,
before erupting in laughter.

Sunday

 

 

Sunday arrived, the start of Brad’s second full day on
Aylesford Place. It was The Lord’s Day, but then to Brad every day was the
Lord ’s Day. It was just that this day was set aside by some to gather with
other believers and spend time worshipping together. Brad arose early, excited
to see his new neighbors again, especially one of his new neighbors. He
showered, dressed, ate breakfast, and went to call on Amy to escort her to church.

“I’m almost ready,” Amy said as she opened the door
and smiled at the blond-headed man who faced her. “I’ll just be a minute.
Please step in while I put on my boots and get my purse and coat.”

Amy’s long auburn hair sashayed across her shoulders
as she turned. Brad could not take his eyes off her as he watched her bare feet
ascending the steps to the second floor. Once again, he was impressed, but he
felt she looked even better as she descended those same steps.

“Do you want to walk or drive?”

“Oh, everyone on the street walks, except Barney and
Bertha. Barney always drops by and picks up Bertha. We save our parking spaces
for those who don’t live on Aylesford Place.”

“Then walk it is,” Brad said as he took Amy by the arm
and escorted her down the front porch steps, as they watched their breaths go
before them.            

Amy smiled at Brad and Brad smiled back. As they
turned to walk down the street, Brad opened up.

“On the left you have one of many three-story red
brick homes in our beautiful neighborhood. This particular home is occupied by
that incredibly gifted, wealthy author of whodunits, Brad Forrester, formerly
known as Brad Patterson. Mr. Forrester has one wife and four children, but is
terribly ashamed of all of them, and so he decided to leave them behind when he
moved to Aylesford Place.”

Without breaking stride, Brad continued to entertain
as the two of them walked to church.

“Our next stop will be the home of Harry and Ethel
somebody. Harry has lots of money, which he keeps to himself, and he is not
smart enough to keep his mouth shut while in the presence of Mrs. Cora
Henderson. Next, we have the home Mr. and Mrs. Birdbath, who have migrated to Florida for the winter. Maybe they’ll come home in the spring, but if Mr. and Mrs. Swallow
do not return to Capistrano, we will not sing to them next Christmas.”

Brad ushered Amy along with his left arm, so that he
could match the commentary with each house as they walked by it.

“Moving right along, we have the home of Pastor
somebody or another. Pastor somebody has only one wife, but has three children,
the oldest of whom is the smartest because she likes to read books.”

Amy could not control her laughter.

As Brad and Amy neared the church, Brad took a peek at
the sign out front and continued.

“Oh, yes, Pastor somebody has changed his name to
Scott Armbruster. Pastor Armbruster still has one wife and three children, none
of which he left behind when he moved here.”

Brad was on a roll and continued to walk past the
church.

“Hey, where are you taking me?” Amy asked.

“I haven’t finished, fair maiden. We have yet to come
to the home of the Wicked Witch of the West, who now resides under her home,
ever since that fateful day when she was unable to move fast enough, and her
house fell on her. If only the house had been on fire as it fell, she would’ve
been cremated on the spot. As it is, she is merely the spot under the house.”

“You’re going to be a spot if you don’t hurry up,” Amy
said, scolding her new neighbor. “We’re going to be late if you don’t come on.
If you like, you may continue your diatribe after church.”

“As you wish, Dr. Watson, but I must wait until some
time after church, as I have been engaged by an elderly couple in order to
teach them how to play the violin.”

Amy felt good, plus she caught the Sherlock Holmes
reference to playing the violin. Evidently, Cora was able to influence Brad to
come to Sunday dinner, but Amy was not going to tell him that she would be
there, too. Amy liked having the upper hand. Cora had taught her well.

Brad and Amy walked into the church just as the
service was about to begin. Introductions to the Armbruster family would have
to wait. Even so, as Brad and Amy walked in and took a seat, many of the new
neighbors Brad had met just a little over a day before turned and smiled or
waved, except for Melanie, who blew Brad a kiss which Amy intercepted and blew
back.

 

+++

 

Brad enjoyed the sermon immensely. He expected to be a
fixture at the church for some time to come, and it always helped if one liked
what the pastor had to say.

After the service was over, everyone descended upon
Brad.

“Good to see you again, young fellow,” Barney said,
extending his hand.

“And it’s so good to see you, too, Mr. Sweet Pea. And
it is good to see that Buick of yours. I’ve heard about it.”

“I must take you for a spin sometime.”

“Yes, you must,” Brad agreed.

“I’m going on up and check on dinner,” Cora
interrupted, and whispered into Brad’s ear. “But don’t hurry. Feel free to
visit with everyone. There’s some cooking left to do. We’ll be there when you
get there.”

“Thanks, Cora. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Hello, handsome,” said a sultry voice behind Brad, a
voice he knew could only belong to Melanie. “Have you got dinner plans?”
Melanie asked.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Brad answered.

“Let me guess. Is she red-headed?”

“Actually, the invitation came from a he, not a she,
and he isn’t red-headed.”

“Oh,” Melanie responded, somewhat relieved. “Another
time, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. If I can get away from the wife and kids.”

Melanie laughed and turned away.

“Hey, kids! Come here!” Amy said. “I want to introduce
you to someone.”

The three Armbruster children approached Amy and Brad.
Jill could not take her eyes off Brad.

“Y-y-you know who you look like?” Jill said to Brad.

“Who?” Brad asked.

“Brad Forrester, the author,” Jill replied.

Brad was surprised that someone so young who lived in
such a small town had heard of him, but then maybe Jill was more of an avid
reader than he thought.

“At your service, mademoiselle,” Brad replied.

“No, seriously, you really do look like him,” Jill
replied.

“That’s because I am him. Or should I say he?” Brad
responded.

“Jill, he
really is
the real
Brad
Forrester,” Amy interjected.

Brad extended his hand and shook Jill’s hand before
she realized what he had done.

Jill pulled away, turned, and ran down the aisle of
the church.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything,” Brad called out.

Jill, having reached the front door and realizing what
she had done, turned, and responded, “Oh, I’m sorry! I’ll be back. Please don’t
go anywhere!”

“I wonder what that’s all about,” Kenny said
quizzically. “Are you really Brad Forrester, the author?”

“In the flesh. Now, tell me. Have you ever heard of
me?”

“Well, I knew there was some mystery writer that
Jill’s crazy about, but I’ve never read any of your stuff,” Kenny answered
sheepishly. “But I will,” he quickly added.

 

+++

 

“You’d better stop or I’ll tell,” Mallory said to her
teasing brother as he flipped her curls. She tried to get away, but Kenny kept
following her and continued to tease her.

“James Kensington Armbruster! Leave your sister
alone,” Nancy hollered at her son from across the sanctuary.

“Mom told,” Mallory stated triumphantly.

“Mom, you promised not to call me that in public,”
Kenny uttered dejectedly.

“Well, you shouldn’t have been pestering your sister
in the sanctuary. You know what your father and I have told you about acting
properly in God’s house.”

Brad noticed Kenny’s embarrassment and took him aside.

“Kensington, huh?” Brad asked.

“I’m afraid so,” Kenny answered.

“Well, it’s better than Rothrock.”

“Yeah, but who’d name their kid Rothrock?” Kenny
asked.

“My parents.”

“Your name’s Rothrock? Brad Rothrock?”

“Bradford Rothrock Forrester at your service,” Brad
said as he snapped to attention.

“Bradford? Isn’t that some kind of tree?”

“I was named for the Bradford pear tree. I was. Not
really. I had bestowed upon me the maiden names of my two grandmothers. So what
do you think of that, Kensington?” Brad asked as he gave Kenny a slight punch
on the bicep.

“Well, maybe Kensington isn’t so bad after all. At
least, it’s better than Rothrock,” Kenny said, returning the gesture.

“But let’s look at this positively. Only a
man
could
have a name bestowed upon him like Kensington or Rothrock. Girls, on the other
hand, are merely given the middle name of Ann.”

“Or Sue,” Kenny added. “But then some parents give
them names like Carrington,” Kenny continued, as he saw his sister reentering
the church.

“Carrington. I kind of like that,” Brad said, much to
Kenny’s dismay.

“Jill Carrington Armbruster, you know better than to
run in the church,” her mother shouted.

Jill slowed down to a lady-like pace. She walked up to
Brad carrying a couple of books under her arm.

“Would it be appropriate for me to ask you to sign
your books for me?” Jill asked nervously.

“I would be delighted to sign your books,” Brad said,
drawing his special signing pen from his pocket.

The smile froze on Jill’s face as she watched Brad
sign the two books. Her trance-like state continued even after Brad had
finished signing the books and had attempted to hand them back to her. Kenny
snapped his fingers in front of Jill’s face in order to bring her back to
reality, or at least as far back as was possible at that moment.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry. Thanks,” Jill muttered.

“No, thank you. Thank you, mademoiselle, for taking
time to read my books.”

“The pleasure was all mine,” Jill said, as the
trance-like smile returned to her face.

“Oh, brother! Gag! I have to get out of here,” Kenny
said, unable to take any more of his sister’s crush-like actions.

With her brother having left and her sister somewhat
out of it, Mallory seized her chance to talk.

“You haven’t by any chance written any books for
smaller children, have you?”

“Sorry,” Brad responded. “I haven’t written any of
them yet.”

“Just thought I’d check,” Mallory replied. “See, I
talk bigger than I can read.”

 

+++

 

“Scott! Children! Come on! Dinner’s ready!” Nancy hollered, as she tried to summon her troops.

Within a couple of minutes the chairs around the table
began to fill, as her husband and children wandered in from different
directions.

“Has everyone washed his or her hands?” Nancy asked.

“Jill only washed one of hers,” Kenny replied, causing
his sister to give him a dirty look.

“What are you talking about, Kenny?” his mother asked.

“Well, Jill used her right hand to shake hands with
Brad Forrester, so she vows never to wash it again.”

“What’s that you’ve brought to the table with you,
Jill?” her father asked, knowing that his children knew better than to bring
things to the table when they ate dinner.

“Oh, dad! I’m sorry. These are
his
books.”

“His who? You mean Brad Forrester?”

“Who else, dad?”

Scott smiled and shook his head.

“Nancy,” he said, “one of our children is growing up.”

Jill turned and smiled triumphantly at her brother.

 

+++

 

Brad walked Amy home from church, then stopped by his
house for a minute before heading to Frank and Cora’s. Living on Aylesford Place might offer a plus he never envisioned. Maybe he would never have to cook,
if someone would invite him over every day.

Amy waited until Brad had gone into his house and then
tiptoed down her steps and over to Frank and Cora’s. A couple of minutes later,
the doorbell rang and Cora sent Frank to answer it.

“Hi, Frank. I hope I’m not too late,” Brad said when
Frank opened the door.

“Not at all. Do come in, Brad.”

Brad stepped in and his mouth flew open as he spotted
Amy.

“You!”

Amy laughed and slapped both of her thighs with her
hands.

BOOK: Pink Flamingoed
9.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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