top of page
What Color is Irene's dress?
Enjoy a #WIN South of the Mason-Dixie Line.
The scene in the barn between Blossom and Irene
when everything comes to a head.
I start humming a cheery tune in my head. I looked up and over my left shoulder, and for some odd reason, the first thing that popped into my head was Kalamazoo! The last person on earth I’d ever dream of seeing standing at the barn entrance was Irene’s silhouette. She began strolling over in her five-inch stiletto high heels and bright, yellow-colored skin-tight dress, with her decorative embellishments. Her wild red lipstick was way past her lipline, eyeliner dark as night. Ready to release all her abrasive chatter and her nauseating smell of perfume. I giggle out loud and think there’s something odd about a woman walking in high heels in a horse barn. Even if it is a high-end luxury stable, she looks out of place to me.
The stare between us was a heated feud that had grown over many years and was about to explode. Horseflies swarmed around Irene’s head, confused by her odor. She started waving her arms in the air like a lunatic trying to shoo the flies away. I shook my head as I watched her walk toward me. My eyes were glued to her. I knew she’d never make it this far, strutting in five-inch heels and swatting bugs at the same time.
“How did you get on my ranch?” I yelled.
“Easy. Your father gave me the code to the gate. I have something for you and some news you may want to know.”
“You have nothing I want. Get off my ranch!” I demanded and kept brushing Diamond.
“I wanted the pleasure of telling you first. The sheriff is coming to serve you eviction papers to remove you from my property. This land and all this stuff in here belong to me now.” Irene throws her arms up in the air as if her life dream just came true. “Oh, and by the way, I found your father . . . he’s dead.”
“You’re lying,” I scream.
Irene swaggers over closer to me with a smirk all over her face. Her arrogant, cocky attitude burst, and said, “You never listened to me, you little brat.” Irene points her index finger in my face with her red fingernail polish matching her overdrawn, wicked red lips. Irene’s eyes move off my face, straight up to the top of my head, down to my boots, and back up to the top of my head again. She counters, “Cute hat. And by the way, that’s estate property. It now belongs to me.” Irene’s hand swoops up to the top of my head as she tries to grab my riding helmet. I bent backward, dodging her swipe. Diamond’s front legs reared up and lunged toward Irene. Wildfire snorts and kicks the side of his stall. The animals reacted with wild anger. Irene’s high heels rolled out spread-eagle, her dress pulled up like window blinds, as she fell backward flat on her ass. The stinging, biting, bloodsucking horse flies finished her off between her legs, going in for some nasty plasma. Irene screams, “Ouch, fuck! They bite.” She swats the horse flies off the inside of her thighs, kicking her legs, and rolling around on the ground.
“Don’t you ever . . . ever touch my helmet,” I roared. I put Diamond back in her stall and walked out of the barn. I stopped, turned around, and bellowed back, “By the way, you idiotic bitch, it’s not a hat. It’s a riding helmet, and it would never fit your fat head. You don’t need a helmet because you don’t have a brain to protect. Get the hell off my property.”
I jump in the golf cart and drive back to the main house, trying to think about the cheery tune I was humming before I was rudely interrupted.
Irene stood up, brushed herself off, and screamed, “Bitch!” Looked over at Wildfire and Diamond pointing and said in a threatening rage, “You! You! And you! You fucking white beast, all of you would taste delicious ground up in little, tiny burgers. Shit, it stinks in here. Get away from me, you fuck’n biting flies, go suck blood from that,” Irene pointed to Wildfire.
Irene wobbles off with one heel of her shoe broken off. She slowly walks out, waving her arms over her head, with a large brown spot on the back of her bright yellow sundress.
You will win a FREE signed copy of Plantation Hill from the author.
Success is not always what you see.
bottom of page