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Abstract

Resting between the mounds on Matilda’s chest, Bo calms down and stares into Matilda’s eyes as if she understands what her new person’s saying. “Yep, yep, bark.”“Ouch, why do blackberries have to grow on such prickly stems?”Matilda starts thinking she won’t have time to see her sister’s herbalist friend about a remedy for poor Bo’s digestive issues. She’ll just have to deal with it another time.She’s already terribly late getting her gentleman friend’s refurbished 1951 Studebaker back to him. He’s a good friend, but cantankerous. She already knows she’s in for it, bringing her rescue puppy home in his car.“Bo, we’re getting ourselves into trouble lying around here. Come on, little one. Let’s get you home.”A dark, strong masculine hand starts massaging Bopeep’s back.“Can I give you a hand?”Looks like you just have. “Would you please? If you can just grab Bo, I think I can wiggle out of this.”The handsome stranger picks up the poor little rescue puppy and, while clutching her tenderly, begins clearing branches away. As the pile of blackberry and weedy stems gets larger, he bends down, revealing the top of a nicely formed bum crack.Stifling a chuckle, she wonders, is he here to do Millicent’s plumbing?“I’m Rod, is the Studebaker yours?”“ # Options No, it belongs to a friend.”“Is the friend your fella?” Rod smiles as he winks questioningly.Adjusting her black polka-dot slacks and tossing the matching scarf over her shoulder she replies, “I’m not sure helping us out entitles you to ask that question, young man. But, no, he’s just a friend.”“Oh, I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just wondering. I don’t see a ring on your finger.”“Oh my. Thank you for the compliment, young man, but I’m far too old for you to be wondering about.”“I’m 20 years older than I look if that makes a difference.”After a chat about cars, Millicent’s garden, and Bopeep, Rod smiles and heads to the house.Music plays in her head as she watches Rod walk to her sister’s back door. He turns back to Matilda and winks as the corner of his mouth curls to a smile; his head giving a nod.See the way he walks down the street. Watch the way he shuffles his feet. My, he holds his head up high. When he goes walking by, he’s my guy! (He’s a Rebel.)“BoPeep! That guy’s a looker. Now don’t be telling stories. It’s just between you and me.”More Matilda StoriesKatie Michaelson I tend plants and people from my 120-year-old home and small garden. I see strength in the injured spirit and find significance in the insignificant.</article></body>

Matilda Meets a Fella in the Garden

A happy Flash Fiction.

We find Matilda on her bum in the blackberry bramble at the edge of her sister Millicent’s garden, wondering how she got herself into this mess.

Matilda Gets Tangled up in a Garden

A Happy Flash Fiction

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Is this rescued puppy going to be more trouble than she counted on?

Bopeep climbs on her and licks from the left side of her face to the right. Matilda giggles and laughs while squinting her face. “You’ve rescued me, Bo! Now, how are we going to get out of this prickly mess?”

Resting between the mounds on Matilda’s chest, Bo calms down and stares into Matilda’s eyes as if she understands what her new person’s saying. “Yep, yep, bark.”

“Ouch, why do blackberries have to grow on such prickly stems?”

Matilda starts thinking she won’t have time to see her sister’s herbalist friend about a remedy for poor Bo’s digestive issues. She’ll just have to deal with it another time.

She’s already terribly late getting her gentleman friend’s refurbished 1951 Studebaker back to him. He’s a good friend, but cantankerous. She already knows she’s in for it, bringing her rescue puppy home in his car.

“Bo, we’re getting ourselves into trouble lying around here. Come on, little one. Let’s get you home.”

A dark, strong masculine hand starts massaging Bopeep’s back.

“Can I give you a hand?”

Looks like you just have. “Would you please? If you can just grab Bo, I think I can wiggle out of this.”

The handsome stranger picks up the poor little rescue puppy and, while clutching her tenderly, begins clearing branches away. As the pile of blackberry and weedy stems gets larger, he bends down, revealing the top of a nicely formed bum crack.

Stifling a chuckle, she wonders, is he here to do Millicent’s plumbing?

“I’m Rod, is the Studebaker yours?”

“No, it belongs to a friend.”

“Is the friend your fella?” Rod smiles as he winks questioningly.

Adjusting her black polka-dot slacks and tossing the matching scarf over her shoulder she replies, “I’m not sure helping us out entitles you to ask that question, young man. But, no, he’s just a friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just wondering. I don’t see a ring on your finger.”

“Oh my. Thank you for the compliment, young man, but I’m far too old for you to be wondering about.”

“I’m 20 years older than I look if that makes a difference.”

After a chat about cars, Millicent’s garden, and Bopeep, Rod smiles and heads to the house.

Music plays in her head as she watches Rod walk to her sister’s back door. He turns back to Matilda and winks as the corner of his mouth curls to a smile; his head giving a nod.

See the way he walks down the street. Watch the way he shuffles his feet. My, he holds his head up high. When he goes walking by, he’s my guy! (He’s a Rebel.)

“BoPeep! That guy’s a looker. Now don’t be telling stories. It’s just between you and me.”