Mary Andrea’s Dilemma–entry 3

Link to entry 1:  https://rantingalong.wordpress.com/2013/09/06/mary-andreas-dilemma-entry-1/

Link to entry 2:  https://rantingalong.wordpress.com/2013/09/06/mary-andreas-dilemma-entry-2/

This is the 3rd entry for my short story Mary Andrea’s Dilemma © 2011 J. Dempsey.  Please feel free to let me know what you think.

December 1

My father told me I shouldn’t write personal stuff in the diary.  It’s not like him to be so mean.  I think it’s his way of showing he’s worried about what will happen to me if Ronald gets to read what I wrote.

“Only write in it what needs to be recorded,” He said. “Pay better attention to grammar.”

Weird, huh?

We now have 32 guys and 31 ladies crammed into the girls’ bathroom each day because Mr. Anderson and his son have to change time zones with us. It’s part of the learning process he has to go through to be mayor. He’s insisting his son start writing in the diary now. My dad is getting sick of reminding him that he isn’t going to pass along that or any other duty until Mr. Anderson is officially mayor. It means nosy Ronald thinks he’ll be able to read all the stuff I wrote. I’ll tear out the pages and use them for fire starter before he ever reads a word of it.

On outhouse time, Mr. Anderson is pressuring my father to allow Ronald to marry me. Worse yet, he’s doing it in front of customers at the store. It’s hard on my father to tell people in outhouse time that my husband will be my choice. They’re a pressuring him to find another teacher and do the “proper” thing by marrying me off. The people who remember in both time zones are supporting me. Most of the people against my father are Mr. Anderson’s men friends. I hope I never have to be mayor just as much as I hope I never have to marry Ronald Anderson.

 

December 27

Christmas in Outhouse time is the best! There seems to be more joy and less buy-buy-buy. People sing carols from house to house and the turkey tastes better. Believe me, if you’ve managed to live another year in that time zone you have a lot to be happy about.

And the best Christmas present I ever got was the one in outhouse time, too!

As far as the town is concerned, Mr. Anderson and his son mysteriously disappeared last night during a bad snowstorm. The town has asked my father to stay on as mayor and a special election has been planned in toilet time if the Anderson’s don’t return home by next week. Some people are saying it’s very suspicious that Mr. Anderson and his son disappeared without a trace only days before he was supposed to take over as mayor. My father told them he tried to warn Mr. Anderson conditions were right for a snowstorm and not to go out. Mr. Anderson is one who doesn’t remember when he’s on outhouse time, but he remembers everything during toilet time—when he used to go into the bathroom only once every 10 days. It’s yet another strange condition that affects some people and not others. My father couldn’t tell the farmers and laborers in a town hall meeting where he got the weather report.  How do you tell people in outhouse time that you were looking at a satellite view of the Nor’easter from hell?  My father looked up the weather for Outhouse time in the history section of a weather website.  He could see where it was heading days before it got here.   What I can’t understand is why Mr. Anderson and his son didn’t arrive at the girls’ bathroom in time the previous afternoon?

I think there are some things it’s better not to know.