Come to think of it, if there were an award for redirecting hostile plots, I’d happily accept that nomination. For example, getting Tyrone back into juggling, that was a breeze. All we needed was a pretty new girl. The plan to put Grandma Earlene in a lifeless retirement village, that was some frosty stuff. Getting Aunt Estelle to back down, that was both nerve-racking and exhilarating.
However, dealing with the antics of a middle-aged bully who is also a relative, that will be an ongoing assignment. Aunt Estelle’s reformation remains incomplete, in my humble opinion. We’re stuck with her and whatever she chooses to bring to the table. The exercise of it all is to be kind and forgiving, which is something she gives us ample opportunity to practice.
The only remaining hostile was Gloria Sharpe. Those who knew about the case were confident the FBI would catch and stop the unrepentant thief. I, for one, was determined to cross-examine my kidnabber. I wanted to know what made her turn out the way she did. That’s stems from the psychological and criminally-minded part of me. Mind you, I am not thinking about becoming a criminal. I just need to think like one to catch one.
Jenius, bless her heart, became obsessed with making sure there was a Jenius Dewbabie. Typically a blabbermouth when it comes to doing nice things, she put together a plan and tried her best to stay anonymous in her good deed doing. Last I heard, she has failed miserably. In all her sneaking around, she hasn’t been able to stay out of plain sight. I tell her it’s because she has this unusual combination of good height and bad timing. She needs to rethink her in-cog-NEEDO-ness.
For example, Jenius took it upon herself to deliver a basket of two dozen fresh cut roses to Mrs. Claytor while attempting to say invisible on a sunny afternoon. A hoodie masked all but her lips. Perhaps all that coverage was the problem. I’m sure she looked more like a hoodlum than a do-gooder.
She did manage to sneak herself into the shrubbery by the Claytors’ front door. Her mission was to ring the doorbell, leave the basket and run away. It went south when the door opened and young Wesley yelled, “Wait up, Jenius. Are these for my mom?”
Then the door opened all the way and there stood the intended recipient waving frantically. “Thank you, Jenius. How lovely. What’s the occasion?”
Being five feet and eleven inches tall, Jenius was instantly recognizable. Tall girls in middle school have a hard time flying under the radar. For her next attempt, she wore all black and chose to bless Ms. Bergreen with a loaf of homemade Grandma Earlene bread in the dark of a moonless night.
Her problems were twofold. First, she wrapped the loaf in plain brown wrapping paper, which made the gift’s appearance look more suspicious than delicious. Secondly, the homeowner, in this case, our favorite teacher, must have felt the presence of an intruder. Apparently, she did not like that an uninvited person was leaving an unidentified package at her door.
“Hold it right there, mister!” she said, pointing a cell phone at Jenius. “Hands up. Don’t move!”
Jenius started to remove her hood.
“I said, don’t move!”
“Whatever you say, Ms. Bergreen.”
Head down, hands in the air, Jenius complied. For all she knew, Ms. Bergreen could have been getting ready to skillfully, and in Marine-like fashion, karate chop her in half.
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