Mr. March

Friday, September 12, 2008

It was over to the house that Friday morning. The air was cool and gray. But there were disheartening things. Part of the morning was spent finding out what had happened with Mr. March. The resulting information was not hopeful. Collette was brought back four years to when the Pretzel family had received similar news. She didn’t want to watch another family suffer like that again.
In the solemnness of the day, some little beings were still oblivious to such things. Puck was distracted enough with feeding his lunch to the dog, which included a good deal of his turkey sandwich. Sometimes the dog was his friend, sometimes his mortal enemy. It depended on whether Troops begged for Puck’s food, or whether he stole it.
By the early afternoon, Grandma had arrived bringing presents as usual. This time there was Dead Sea soap for the girls, a giant outdoor copper fireplace for Mom and Dad (an advance Christmas gift), three bags of candy to share, and pirate costumes for Linnea and Puck in preparation for Halloween.
When Puck woke from his nap, the girls helped him on with his pirate vest and hat, which he loved. He took the plastic pirate sword in hand, and without any instruction, began to run around the house growling in very satisfactory Black-Beard fashion.
When Rose least suspected it, he charged at her, sword drawn, and stabbed her in the leg.
“Ow!” Rose laughed. “Who taught him to do that?”
By four o’clock, Mom had chili and biscuits on for the kids, before she and Grandma hit the road for Three French Hens where the author of a biography on Princess Diana was doing a book signing.
The author of A Royal Duty had been one of the Queen’s personal footmen and a confident of Princess Diana.
That evening, Puck examined his belly button and snuggled with Hobbes under the purple blanket.

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Jamie Larson
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