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Easter Madness
by Pirate Turner
Dorothy was huffing under the amount of bags Blanche had cast upon her and cursing herself for being so stupid as to offer her friend help with her purchases in the beginning when she finally caught up with Blanche and Sophia. They stood beside a rail, looking down into the fountain area, and Blanche wore one of her looks that Dorothy knew all too well. Her lips were parted, and her tongue touched the top of them before running invitingly over her mouth. Her eyes remained riveted on whatever man she had found below.
Sophia cackled, and Dorothy cast her mother a condescending look before following Blanche's gaze herself. Her eyes widened, and her head snapped back up. "Blanche!" she exclaimed. "You can't be serious! Having an infatuation for Santa is one thing, but this is ridiculous!"
As though she could not hear Dorothy protesting, Blanche lifted her free hand and ran it through the air as though she was stroking something. She sighed lustfully as her fingers came together. "Ya know what they say about big ears, Dorothy," she remarked, her Southern accent at its fullest, another clear sign that she had it bad.
Dorothy glowered. "You might remember my ex-husband," she snapped, "a big, bald, fat, lazy jerk. He has big ears, Blanche, so you can take it from me: That's just a myth."
Blanche sighed again. This time, the puff of breath was more aggravated than lusty. "That's just Stan for you, Dorothy. He's underdeveloped in all departments." She started to sashay toward the steps that descended into the area.
"Blanche, you are not going down there!"
"You're not mah mother," Blanche replied, casting a look over her shoulder, "an' Ah'll sit on whoevah's lap Ah want to."
As Dorothy hurried after Blanche, Sophia laughed even harder. Dorothy was exasperatedly calling after Blanche when she caught the voice of her other best friend drifting up the stairs.
"What's a matter?" Rose crooned. "Afraid of a little competition?"
"I ain't afraid o' nutin!" a kid's voice shot back. "I'm gonna find all the eggs, and if you get in my way, you're gonna fall on your old lady butt!"
"We'll just see about that!"
Dorothy looked in shock from where Rose had just entered a staring contest with a small boy who seemed to be in possession of the ugliest face she'd ever seen on a kid to where Blanche was now in line to have her picture taken with the Easter Bunny. "That's it!" she cried, throwing her hands up in defeat. A bag fell out of her grasp and landed on the steps with the sound of something shattering inside. "This is the absolute last time I come with either of you to the mall! Blanche, you want your things, here they are," she announced, proceeding to sit all but two of the bags she carried on the steps.
"Aw, Dorothy, can't ya just hold on to 'em for a few more minutes, darlin', pleeease?" Blanche called from the line. "Ah'm almost there."
"You're simply going to have to line up with the children again, Blanche, because I'm not staying here in this humiliation for one more minute!" Dorothy snapped, her head held high. Clutching her two remaining bags, she bolted up the steps, grabbed her mother's arm, and began to lead the way to the closest exit. Her sudden jerk ceased Sophia's laughter, and the old woman looked up at her daughter. "Do we have to go now?" she complained.
"Yes, right now!"
"But it was just getting good!"
Dorothy rolled her eyes and kept on walking.
Meanwhile, back down in the fountain area, Rose cried out in triumph. "You blinked!" she exclaimed, pointing at the kid she had been facing down. "You blinked! I win! I win!" Then she turned to look for Blanche. She had heard snippets of Blanche and Dorothy's conversation but had refused to lose her staring competition. She spotted Blanche picking up her bags and walked over to her, momentarily ignoring the little boy's squalling protests.
"Huh, Blanche?"
Blanche sighed again. "What is it, Rose?" she asked irritability.
"Did Dorothy leave?"
"Gee, why else do you think I'd be picking up by own bags?!"
Rose trailed her shoe along the floor, her hands folded demurely before her. "Well, there's just one small problem . . . "
"Just one?" Blanche snapped, finally looking up.
Rose nodded. "She has the car."
Blanche's mouth opened; her eyes flew wide with shock. Quickly she gathered her remaining bags. Then, together, the friends bolted up the steps. "Dorothy! Dorothy! Please wait! We're sorry!"
"You may be sorry," Rose returned, glancing at Blanche as they did their best to run in their high heels, "but I've done nothing to be sorry for! You both should be apologizing to me! Your silly quarrel, whatever it's about, is going to make me miss my Easter egg hunt!" Her bottom lip stuck out.
"You might miss your little, ole egg hunt, but Ah'm missing the bunny himself!"
"You do know there's a Mrs. Easter Bunny, don't you?"
"A Missus? Nobody evah said anythin' 'bout there bein' a Missus!"
"There has to be! Do you really think he's spent all these years alone?"
"Well, not exactly alone, Rose. He does get entertained at least once a year after all, like his friend, Santa."
Rose shot Blanche an indignant look, her face flushing red. "Shut up and run, hussy," she exclaimed, picking up speed, "unless you want to be left hoofing it home!"
They burst through the mall doors, panting, and found Dorothy waiting in the car just ahead of them. "Are you two ready to behave yet?" she demanded with one of her fiercest glares.
"But we did nothing wrong!"
"Don't you ninnys get it yet?" Sophia questioned from the front passenger seat. "You embarrassed her! That's what Pussycat finds wrong! She's never dealt well with embarrassment. I remember, back in New York, when she was in the -- "
"Are you coming or not?" Dorothy demanded, cutting her mother off and hoping she'd not continue but knowing she would.
Blanche slid into the car without a word, but Rose spoke up again as she entered and shut the door behind her. "I still don't see anything wrong with an Easter egg hunt. It's a grand tradition."
Suddenly Dorothy realized she'd made a very bad mistake. She should have just left Blanche and Rose to walk home, but she had caved at the thought of her two friends having to walk the streets of Miami in dresses and high heel shoes. She should have either gone ahead and left or stayed and hidden in one of the many shops in the mall, but she hadn't. She had let her anger get the better of her, and now she'd pay the price for on the way home, not only would she get to hear another of her mother's embarrassing stories of her childhood but she'd also be stuck listening to a St. Olive story.
"You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you?" she muttered to herself as she peeled out into the traffic, determined to get home as fast as she possibly could. Maybe, just maybe, she wouldn't have to hear Rose's entire story. She could hope, at least, even if hoping was always futile with the blonde.
The End