#writephoto : gargoyle

Thursday #writephoto prompt:  Inside-out

“Who’d a thought I’d be goin’ to a black an’ white ball?  All them senators dancin’ with their wives…or husbands, an’ the president, too!” I hooted at my son.

“Mother…please!” he whispered sharply.

I hain’t seen that shade of red on your face since you was a boy.”

Six feet tall and handsome as his daddy, he pulled me to the side and said, “I’ve had the tickets to this event for 2 months.  Celeste left me a month ago.  Mother, she sent her ticket to you and said it was from me as a joke.”

“Why’s everyone wearin’ black an’ white?”

“Mother, you’re not stupid or I wouldn’t be a professor,” he grumbled.

From: whiskyriff.com

“If you was smart, you would’ve stayed outta politics,” I said.  “Ain’t no way a English lit major’s gonna stand toe to toe with these guys.”

“Oh no,” he whispered.  “That’s Lena from…”

“Corrupt News Network.  I know,”  I said, smiling at her.  “She looks like a black swan glidin’ this way.”

“Let me do the talking, mother.”

Lena stopped in front of my son, snickered at me, and said, “Who’s the gargoyle?”

“You,” I smiled.

“Dr. Holcomb?” she asked my son. “Is this woman related to you?”

“This party hain’t nothin’ but a bunch a losers,” I said, turning to walk away. 

“Wait!” Lena ordered, as if she owned the place.

I felt a woman’s hand on my arm. That just wasn’t gonna fly.

But she did.  

Perfect arm twist, easy back flip with a dress-in-the-face landing. Her tightie whities did nothin’ for a not-so-perfect figure hidden by ample amounts of chiffon as she gasped on the dance floor.  

“You stupid cunt! Who wears stilts an’ platforms with a circular dress in your condition!” I yelled at the top a my lungs.  Lots a flashes, meanin’ lots a pics! And a few mikes. Perfect!  “You cain’t hide that yer 6 months along no matter how you fluff yer dress, nor the wet in yer pants when you lose yer pee.”

Lucky for me the president thought it was funny.  He never liked Lena, either.  My son held his head down while the chief executive danced the 2-step with me.

“Mrs. Holcomb,” he asked politely, “How did a woman from…where you’re from…have a son like Travis?”

“I worked my butt off so’s he could go to junior college.  Then he got scholarships an’ a snotty attitude.  I ain’t beholden to his politics so he don’t want nothin’ to do with me.  Lena called me a gargoyle, but from where I sit, she got it inside-out. Assholes in this room gave up God ‘n country for power ‘n fame.  Nothin’ uglier than that.”

“On that we agree,” the president chuckled. “How would you like to stay at the White House a few days as our guest?”

“I’d love to tell you all ’bout Travis.  I brought some good pics with me, too.  Did you know he use-ta have a mullet?”

“That, I’ve got to see,” he said, givin’ me a twirl an’ a fond adieu. 

I hafta admit.  I knew why Celeste sent me this ticket.  She cleaned out his account, left for Paris and said if I found a way to humiliate the bitch humpin’ him she’d give me half a million of it.  

By the time I’m through with my goody two-shoes son, he’ll be a laughin’ stock and his leach of a mistress won’t want him.  Whether I get one red cent from my fave DIL or not, it was worth a little hillbilly kungfu to wallop a reporter that ain’t worth squat.

I took my Ipad from my boot, tuned in to the Corrupt News Network an’ smiled at myself smilin’ in my cowgirl hat, pink dress and boots whilst lookin’ at my email on the Ipad.  It meant I’d be hearin’ from Celeste soon.

As in…now.

“I’d love for you to visit,” the message from Celeste said. 

“im ready to pack my bags n get the hell outta dodge,” I replied.  “after i spend a few days at the witehouse.”

“It’s true the president invited you to stay?”

“yep. i voted 4 him an got lots a pics 2 wit me that Travis dont like.”

“Thanks, mom,” Celeste wrote.

I shut off the phone, gigglin’ at Lena tryin’ to look regal.  Ain’t no comin’ back from those tightie whitie photos.  I may not a broke her arm, but I broke her pride, and that was good enough fer Celeste.

Not fer me.  

Just wait’ll I start demandin’ granparent’s rights from Lena.  That stain ain’t never comin’ outta her drawers!



 ©Joelle LeGendre