Friday, June 29, 2012
The Oiliest Secret Chapter 2: Trouble in Malibu
After three weeks of interrupted mail service, Jenna finally realized it was no accident. Someone she knew was getting his revenge.
“Who could it be?” Billy Baldwin Jr. Jr. wondered aloud.
Billy, or Bi-Ju-Ju as Jenna called him, had many of the famous Baldwin family traits, and intelligence was one of them.
“It’s Postmaster Koop J.,” Jenna calmly explained. “He’s sending us a message.”
“It doesn’t make sense,” Billy said in an exasperated tone. “If he wanted to send us a message, he could have just mailed it to us.” To emphasize his point, he pounded the kitchen table with his closed fist, upsetting the pot of Dandelions he’d picked for Jenna earlier that afternoon and sending up a cloud of seed-bearing parachutes into the climate-controlled atmosphere of the dining room.
Jenna shrugged her shoulders, sneezed, and then wiped her runny nose on her shirtsleeve. “He’s trying to hurt me. This is the only way he knows how.”
“But Great Uncle Alec is really miffed about not getting his invitation to The Emmy’s. Now he doesn’t know when and where it is, and he’s one of the hosts…”
Bi-Ju-Ju continued to ramble on about his great uncle, but Jenna was no longer listening. In her mind, she had fallen into the powerful grip of the stocky, grumpy, sixty-three-year-old man now known to her restless imagination as “The Postmaster.”
“Oh, The Postmaster,” she mumbled to herself, “You went to all this trouble. You really do care about me.”
“Huh?” Bi-Ju-Ju’s voice snapped her back into the present.
“I-I’m sorry,” Jenna stuttered. “What were you saying?”
“I was asking you if you thought these white flakes in my hair might be dandruff, and you said, ‘You really do care about me.’ I was just trying to figure out what you meant by that.”
“Oh… Um… In some cultures… dandruff is considered… a sign of… Oh I can’t do this any more. I’m sorry, Bi-Ju-Ju. I think I’ve made a horrible mistake. I can’t stay in your great uncle’s guest house any longer."
“Well, I sure can’t afford an apartment.”
“Bi-Ju-Ju, look at me. I can’t fight it any longer. I’m in love with another man.”
“Oh for Pete’s sake. It’s my cousin, Stephen Jr. Jr., isn’t it? You know he’s a registered sex offender, don’t you?”
Jenna shook her head. “It isn’t Ste-Ju-Ju.”
“Let’s just say he works for the government.”
“Which one?” Bi-Ju-Ju asked, but Jenna could no longer hear him. She was already out the door and on her way to the bus station. She walked with her head held high. "I'm coming, The Postmaster," she barked huskily. This time she was sure she had made the right decision.
Continue the oiliness