Magnolia Blossoms by Rhonda Dennis Read Free Book Online Page A

I’d failed again. I hope that a good night’s sleep will make things seem a little better in the morning, or better yet, that this is all just a bad dream.
    *****
    My eyes are super puffy when I try to open them, but I can’t let that stop me. Another unanticipated consequence to my little barbecue —the smell. Rotting pig carcass is quite odoriferous, and my parents will be returning from their jaunt within a day or so. I quickly tie a bandana around my semi-bald head, a la Aunt Jemima style, then head to the fire pit. The sight before me is about as bad as the smell. Maggots and flies crawl over the charred, putrefying meat. I want to hurl, but the sense of urgency to get rid of the carcass trumps it. I disappear into the garage for a bit where I find a clothespin for my nose, some rope, a pair of black dot gloves, and of course, my trusty sunshine yellow Vespa. Gnawing on my lower lip, I try to determine the best course of action. There is no way in hell that I’m straddling this pig now!
    Even though I heave the entire time, I manage to lasso one end of the rope around the pig hoof with the other end secured around my waist. My plan is to hop on the Vespa and drag the chunk of pork to the bayou towards the back of the property. It was foolproof in my mind.
    I ease on the gas, but nothing happens except for a slight tightening of the rope around my waist. No time for playing around; I have to get this done! I hammer down on the throttle. The Vespa careens forward; I, however, do not. The pain of smashing into the ground is instantaneous and intense. I quickly rub my sore ribs then survey my hand. No blood. After untying the rope from my waist, I dust off and very gently mount the Vespa. Once it’s back in its usual spot in the garage, I desperately search for plan B.
    The only thing that looks like it will even remotely be an option is the huge green tractor that Big Daddy occasionally uses to piddle around with lawn projects. Climbing aboard, I’m confused by all of the buttons and levers before me, and I thankfully find one clearly marked, “Start.” I push it; nothing happens. I jostle a few levers, and in doing so, I finally spot a key. I turn it, and then push the “Start” button. The tractor roars to life and shoots out of the stall like green lightening. I’m barely able to hold on to the steering wheel as I struggle to stay in the seat. I press and mash anything and everything in front of me, but nothing slows down the tractor. I aim it toward the fire pit, hoping the sturdy brick will stop the tractor for me. It doesn’t. It plows right through the brick, sending shards of mortar and baked clay everywhere. Once I’m through the dust cloud, I see that I’m dragging the pig with me, so I steer towards the bayou. With any luck, I can cut the wheel once I get close enough and slingshot that sucker into the water. As for the tractor, if I have to ride it in circles around the property until it runs out of gas, then so be it.
    I feel like I’m playing a game of chicken. The water’s edge rapidly approaches, and I know that I have to time it just right for my plan to work. As soon as the embankment starts to slope downhill, I cut the wheel sharply to the right, and I feel the tractor starting to tip over. I heave my body in the opposite direction of the overturning vehicle, flying through the air Supergirl-style. I land with thud, and once I’m able to breathe again, I quickly sit up to assess the damage. The tractor’s top half is completely submerged in the muddy water. Bubbles and steam surround the wreckage, and all I can do is stare with disbelief. Big Daddy will kick me out for this one, for sure. I look to my left, and there sits the nasty, smelly pig quarter mocking me.
    “You stupid, no good, pain in my ass! Go away!” I yell to the rotting meat. Kicking it feels really good until I suddenly feel myself levitate. Before my brain can process what’s going on, I’m set back on the ground,