In this blog:
Treed by A Chicken
A Note from Joy
BOOB Girls and The Senile Squad for your groups
New Offers in The BOOB Girl Series
Treed by A Chicken
From your last visit from the girls:
The door to the dining room flew open and Raven reappeared.
“We have a bit of an emergency,” he said with genuine Apache calm.
They looked at him.
“Zed Zonker and Cyreel Schmeel are streaking the lobby, which is full of a book club meeting – all ladies.”
As one person, they stood.
“That’s not all,” Raven added. “They’re being chased by a chicken.”
They headed for the door.
The spacious, well-decorated lobby of Meadow Lakes Retirement Community held a cozy and delightful corner for small group meetings. Fifteen ladies and one parakeet occupied the meeting space. The parakeet belonged to Charlotte (Cherry) Pitts and the tiny blue thing had its beak wide open saying, “MyOhMy! MyOhMy!” over and over in a high, squeaky little voice as it watched the performance in front of them.
“Pretty well says it all,” Wiley Vondra said, shaking his head.
Cyreel Schmeel, wearing only his red high tops Air Jordans was racing past Cherry and the bird.
Zed Zonker, in black high tops, black top hat and black cane was doing a power prance in front of Ethyl Gass, who had both hands over her mouth.
Cyreel patted Jean Poole on the head as he hurriedly power-limped by.
Close on the heels of Ned Zonker was a gigantic, colorful rooster who was pecking at his high tops with intense determination.
As the rooster zoomed by Cherry and her parakeet, the little bird took one quick look and changed, “MyOhMy” to “Oh Shit!” and ducked her head under her wing for protection.
Marge looked at Alphonso, who had an enormous grin on his face. “Want me to taser them?” she said, lifting her red cane, finger on the taser jewel.
“Naw,” Alphonso said with a genuine belly laugh. “You’ll knock ‘em out cold and fry the chicken.”
“Don’t hurt Fuss N’ Feathers!” Mary Rose said loudly.
All fifteen ladies were starring with mouths open. Ivonne, the front desk concierge, was standing in front of her counter, leaning back, arms crossed, a delightful smile on her pretty face.
“Good thing this isn’t the ladies flower show,” Hadley said. Robbie, standing beside her, looked at her. “They’d win first prize for the best dried arrangements.”
Robbie pointed a finger at Hadley and laughed out loud.
Raven smiled a genuine smile.
The over-sized rooster zoomed around Cyreel and headed toward Zed Zonker’s more available ankles.
It was then Robbie saw, coming full-bore down the hallway, Geoffrey, the even more over-sized mastiff. He had caught the scent of excitement, and while not as fast as he used to be, his power-limp far exceeded that of Cyreel and Ned Zonker.
Alphonso spotted the big dog at the same time. “Raven,” he said, tilting his head toward the door while spinning his scooter into the hall to block the lumbering beast gaining ground fast.
Raven shot to the door, yelled an Apache expletive toward the two naked warriors and held the door wide open for them.
Both men saw the dog and hurried as fast as they could through the door.
Just as Geoffrey gave an impressive flying leap over the front of Alphonso’s scooter, Fuss N Feathers zoomed through the door pecking at Zed’s heels like a miniature jack hammer.
Zed was hopping, yelling, “Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!” and trying his best to hit the bird by shaking his cane behind his back with one hand. It wasn’t working.
Raven followed the chicken out the door and closed it behind himself, just in time.
Geoffrey skidded to a desperate and disappointed stop, his nose less than an inch from the massive door.
Hadley, Robbie, Mary Rose, Wiley, Alphonso, fifteen ladies and one parakeet hurried to the big windows looking out onto the front lawn.
A tall ladder leaned against a tree, a lawn man at the very top, trimming a dead branch.
Cyreel was the first up the ladder, going just far enough so Zed Zonker could get high enough to escape the enraged rooster.
The lawn man looked down, saw the wrinkled, naked bodies and said, “What the –” then he pulled a rag from his pocket and wiped sweat off his forehead. “I’ve got to quit drinking,” he muttered to himself.
Geoffrey whined a pitiful, defeated whine and limped slowly to where Mary Rose was standing, staring out the window with the others. The dog was tall enough that he could look out and watch with the others.
They all watched as Raven grabbed Fuss N Feathers, holding his wings solidly to his sides, and amid loud squawking and pecking attempts, threw the frustrated bird over the high fence surrounding the neat chicken yard and coop that housed Meadow Lake’s collection of exotic chickens. The big rooster squawked angrily.
For the first time Geoffrey had something in common with a chicken.
The chickens had been a project of Mary Rose’s years ago when she and Wiley fought over the presidency of the Resident Board of Meadow Lakes amid the politics of true chickens.
Mary Rose had won, hands down, and so had the chickens. Wiley still thought the only good chicken was breaded and fried. He had to admit though, he had cheered for the rooster this day.
Cherry Pitts’ little parakeet, whose name was Eleanor Roosevelt, slowly took her head from under her wing.
Cherry took Elanor with her to all her meetings, carried her cage on a daily walk through the halls or outside when the weather was nice, and had taught her to her talk.
Now Elanor looked around, saw Robbie, and began repeating over and over, “Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus. Sweet Jesus.”
“Say it, girl!” Robbie said to her as she and Cherry hurried past her down the hall.
Bertha Breastted turned from the window, slipping her iPhone into her pocket.
“Got some good pictures,” Wiley said to Alphonso as he nodded toward Bertha.
Alphonso looked up at him and grinned. “And all the children of these ladies think all we do in a retirement community is stay in our rooms, watch TV all day and feel depressed.” He gave another full belly laugh.
Marge Aaron moved over from the window and joined Hadley, Robbie, and Mary Rose.
“Seeing Cyreel nude and bouncing forth,” she said with a smile, reminded me of two things.
They looked at her.
“One, seeing what he had there, I felt sorry for Zoomer Schmeel and two,” she looked behind her through the window as the two bare-assed men gave each other a high five at the base of the ladder. “The second thing is,” she hesitated. “We haven’t thought of her for a while.” She looked at them seriously. “Where in the world is Zoomer Schmeel?”
(to be continued)
A NOTE FROM JOY
Chris LeGrow is a retired Omaha cop. He is also an author. He wrote two books that are like siblings – friendly ones – to The BOOB Girls.
The Senile Squad
Da Broad Squad
Chris and I met, visited well together, and designed a presentation called,
WRITING ABOUT OLD PEOPLE,
FOR OLD PEOPLE.
Chris and I perch on two bar stools and involve the audience in conversation.
We talk about being old people writing about old people – our characters, what it’s like to be creative, how smart, clever and powerful old people are. His Ol’ Blues (retired cops) compliment my Girls (Old Broads) and we have a lot of healthy talk and a lot of laughter.
If you are in the Omaha area, and want us for your group, call me at 402-639-2939.
We’re doing this for fun and our fee is being able to make our books available to your group. We’ll also let you know when we appear at places where you can drop in. We drink coffee while we do this, so join us for a cup, a hug and a laugh.
1. One BOOB Girls Birds Poster:
Janet found one lonely poster (size of a small movie poster) by Jim Campbell of the BOOB Girls as birds. From Left to right: Esmeralda St Benedict, Maggie Patten, You (because there is always room for one more at Table 12, Mary Rose McGill, Robinson Leary, Marge Aaron, Hadley Joy Morris-Whitfield, Patty Whack. And below is Marge’s red cane and the evil Finigan Farquer peering around the tree and “lurking.”
First one to respond saying you want it gets it for $30.
2. Any Six Books for $60.
Take your pick, first six, last six, mix and match. A great way to start a collection or fill in the missing ones.
An idea for a very special gift.
3. We will send a BOOB Girl book from you to a friend who needs a laugh. Do this now, from this blog. It will be a perfect gift.
Send check to Joy Brown at
8141 Farnam, #322, Omaha NE 68114