The Mulrooney's - Part Seven - The End is Near
“Megan!” said Regina Mulrooney. “Will you please stop kissing that man and come with me.”
“But I'm really getting better at it, Mother,” said Megan.
”Do as your mother says,” said Mr. Mulrooney. ”It‘s the first time in a long time that we‘ve agreed on anything.”
“But they’re looking at our family album,” said Regina. “I want to look.”
“No, dear," said Regina. “We need to let go of those things. Now, follow me. You, too, Dickie. We’re going to pay a visit to dear old Gloria. The maid with a heart of gristle.”
“What is she doing in the attic, anyway, Mother?” said Megan.
“Hiding,” said Regina. “It’s what the guilty do.”
Sorry, but let me interrupt this story for a minute. Hello, my name is Richard McDonough. I’m the author of the tale you’ve been reading. And if you’re like me, you’ve probably been asking yourself when it will all be over. Seven chapters? Ten? Twenty seven? Well, let me give you some re-assurance that this story will end in chapter eight. I can’t guarantee that it will have a satisfactory ending. I can only guarantee that it will end. Right now I’m stalling for time because I haven’t quite figured everything out yet. But I know that if I let the story lay there for more than a couple of days without a new chapter, you will lose interest and go back to the things you should be doing. Something useful. Like clipping your toenails or shaving those hard to get at places.
My problem is I have bad writing habits. I don’t try to figure out the logic of things, or do any of the things that make a story well rounded. I’m too impatient. Five hundred words. Stop. Post. Five hundred words. Stop. Post. It’s like improv cooking. Just throw everything in the pot and hope it comes out all right. And that no one chokes on a bone.
So where was I? Oh, yes.
“Oh, my gosh,” said Jay. “That’s her in the picture!”
“Who?” said Sarah.
“The woman I saw in the attic,” said Jay.
“Which one is she?”
“She’s the one in the apron,” said Jay. “Holding on for dear life to that Saint Bernard. I’m guessing she’s the maid.”
“She certainly is sour looking,” said Sarah.
“You’d be sour looking, too,” said Jay, “if you had to pick up after that Saint Bernard everyday.”
“The caption reads, Gloria and Rex,” said Sarah.
“Hard to tell which one is which, though,” said Jay. “They both could pass for a Rex.”
“She does have a bit of facial hair," said Sarah.
“A bit?” said Jay. “A little wax and she could definitely fashion herself a fine handlebar mustache with what she’s got.”
“Oh, Look,” said Sarah. “There she is again. Standing there holding a serving tray at the dinner table.”
“Let’s see,” said Jay, “the cation reads, Megan’s graduation dinner. And look! Megan's wearing a flower garland. How cool is that. She’s wearing the same one you’re holding in your hand. And you know what?”
“What?” said Jay.
“I think I found your secret admirer.”
“That’s because you’ve had three wines,” said Jay.
“Megan and Jay Jay, sittin’ in a tree. K-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
“Now I know you’re drunk.”
“You know what we should do?” said Sarah.
“Go up to the attic with a bottle of wine and have a drink with Gloria. I think she’s lonely.”
“I’ll get a fresh bottle,” said Jay. ”I like it when you get spunky.”
“You know what else?” said Sarah.
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“I’ll bring a candle!” said Sarah. “We’ll have an old-fashioned seance!”
“I hope this all doesn’t end with a tumble down the attic stairs," said Jay. “And us crashing through the front door like two frightened cartoon cats being chased by a big hairy mouse.”
“Just get the wine,” said Sarah. “I’ll get the candle.”