The Dragon and the Butterfly
In the past, Sister Madly has had some interesting things come through her car window:
- Hand of a Jehovah’s Witness (Watchtower pamphlet attached)
- Sprinkler Jets (a guarantee during sprinkler season)
- Wild Turkey
Well, almost a Wild Turkey, which was most unfortunate as Sister Madly was on her way to a wedding that day and was clearly lacking a +1. He clipped the roof of her car, having neglected to look both ways before taking flight on that lonely country road. Sister Madly was just as startled as he: obviously, neither of them knew that wild turkeys could fly.
But she’s not here to talk about the turkey. No, she came here to discuss something that haunts every decent human creature on the planet: 6:30 AM.
You see, Sister Madly does not do this 6:30 in the morning bit. Not on purpose. 6:30 in the morning is reserved for cozy dreams of Lotus flowers and creepy houses with staircases that go nowhere. While sunrises have been known to happen at this time of day, there are those of you gracious enough to take pictures of them so she can enjoy them at a later, more humane hour. But there it was, 6:30 AM, glowing like a nuclear blast outside her window- which wouldn’t be the case if someone hadn’t chopped down the tree in the middle of the night.
Turns out, the earlier one rises, the earlier things get done- such as errands and picking up hitchhikers. While out and about that morning, a dragonfly flew through her window and settled onto the dashboard.
(She was unable to take her own photo of her companion as
taking pics while driving makes the Highway Patrol very cross.)
Perhaps he needed a lift, or perhaps he was lonely; perhaps he just enjoyed the Qntal CD that was playing. Whatever the reason, the dragonfly stayed with her all the way home- something which, Sister Madly grudgingly admits, might not have happened had she awakened at a later hour.
If only the other whimsical encounter ended just as well.
Some years ago Sister Madly, after spending the night at a friend’s, was gently awakened once again around 6:30 AM, this time by Rita’s younger brother spraying a hose through the bedroom window. Being the feisty little spitfires that they were, the hose-drenched duo staggered into the kitchen and proceeded to bake a cake.
To this day, Sister Madly can’t tell you why they decided to turn domestic at that unholy hour, nor why they decided to flavor the cake with rum. Perhaps it was habit, as they both were employed at the bistro where baking was routine. In fact, Sister Madly remembers little of what happened that morning between the moment they were hosed out of bed and the moment the timer when off, when she found herself sitting on the kitchen counter with her feet in the sink.
Across the room Rita, who had been stabbing a lime with a pencil, was just as bewildered.
“Are we baking something?”
They should’ve known better than to decorate a cake straight from the oven- no, they did know better; they just did it anyway, frosting it in yellow and topping it off with a half-hearted smiley face.
Since neither one wanted rum cake at 8:15 in the morning- and since neither one could say for certain that the rum actually made it into the cake- they resorted to that old tradition ingrained into every creature at childhood: give the undesirable treat away to a Crush. Besides, who wouldn’t want to be rousted out of bed on a Saturday morning for a Smiley Face Rum Cake?
They drove with the windows down, taking the longest, most carefree way to the Crush’s house. Since they didn’t allow the cake to cool before frosting it- and since all they had to transport said cake was a paper plate- it took some creative acrobatics on Sister Madly’s part to keep from flinging the cake at Rita. Or at the windshield. Or at herself. The last thing one thinks to worry about in this situation is the intrepid, happy-go-lucky butterfly that suddenly flits through the window.
But it was not Sister Madly that this butterfly was interested in; no, it was Rita- the one behind the wheel. The one who does not like bugs. Not even pretty ones.
Curious as to how one drives while being kissed by a butterfly?
The same way one does when being assassinated by a wasp.
Emitting a high-pitched screech, Rita took them on a willy-nilly journey over curbs and potholes, crossing the center line and back again until the Smiley Cake escaped the horror by flinging itself out the car window and into the street, where it was promptly run over by a bus.
THEME SONG: The Whyle, Qntal
IMAGES: 1,2,4) pinterest