CONTEST WINNER: THE TAMING OF DAISY MAY by Lucille Hedges

“My God, Daisy May, what was in that drink? If you weren’t my sister-in-law I’d leave you here. Let’s go before they kick us out.”

She took the cigar out of her mouth, twirled it thru her fingers, then eyed the smoldering tip. It was still lit.  

“S’matter, Sis. Jus’ a lil’ fun …”

I cut her off. “Vacation or no vacation, you’ve got to start behaving. Tom said to take good care of you. Now I know why. It’s a wonder he puts up with you.”

Daisy May stuck her cigar in the tip jar on the bar, shoved it toward the bartender, and turned her attention to the snack tray.  

“Where’d ya think we were going?”

“Out to dinner, you twit.”

“’Ere ya go Sis, ‘ave some peanuts.” She gave the bowl a hefty push. It slid across the polished surface, teetered on the edge, then fell. Peanuts and broken crockery spread across the floor. 

“Oh Geez!” she said as she slid off the bar stool landing splay-legged on the clutter below. “Ow, dammit Owww!” she howled. She pulled at her skirt in a vain attempt to cover her bare legs. The pale purple thong she wore, or almost wore, did little to cover anything including the cheeks of her ample butt. 

Her thrashing ceased. One hundred and sixty pounds of her lay drunk and motionless on the barroom floor.

 In desperation I buried my head in my hands. 

A tap on my shoulder startled me. Two young men dressed in navy polo shirts stood smiling. “Can we help?” the taller of the two asked. “Looks like you could use a hand.” 

“I uh—I don’t know. Thanks. I’m kind of at my wits’ end. I need to get her back to the hotel. I really appreciate …”

“We can help her up and get you two in a cab, or did you come in your own car?”

“I’m afraid we came on foot, the hotel is only a couple of blocks away, but it might as well be miles.”

“A cab it is, then.” One shrill whistle brought the cab and the struggle began. 

Daisy May is no light weight. Unconscious she was dead weight, but after some maneuvering, she lay stretched across the back seat, arms open wide in a sort of spread-eagle position, her mouth agape.

 My saviors dusted themselves off, handed a few bills to the driver, and turned to leave with a goodbye wave. 

 “Wait, wait, I don’t even know your names. I want to pay you for your trouble. Thank you both so very much.” I took some bills from my purse.

They waved it away. “Glad we could help.” 

The hotel staff, apparently experienced at handling delicate situations, found a wheelchair, draped her across the seat, and covered her discreetly with a blanket. Once in our room the concierge took her shoulders, the bellman her feet, and they swung the completely unresponsive body onto the bed. 

Exhausted, I set the chocolate heart from my pillow aside and sunk beneath the welcome cover of freshly laundered sheets. Nothing had ever smelled as sweet or been as welcome. Sleep came quickly.

 I couldn’t wait to end this so-called vacation. I called Tom early the next morning and told him we would be coming home. 

He never asked why.

Daisy May uttered several pained groans and a barrage of tearful apologies as she began packing for our return. We boarded the scenic coastal train and settled into the dining car. I was famished and the aroma from the galley promised a great meal.  I rather enjoyed watching Daisy May turn green as I devoured a huge plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, and fat pork sausages. 

She toyed with a glass of coconut water for her uneasy stomach. 

Daisy May had disguised herself in dark glasses, a large-brimmed hat, and an all-inclusive shawl. She glanced at a mirror in the bathroom as she left. She didn’t recognize herself and hoped no one else would. She might have been mistaken for an escaping Scientologist but for the rather pungent aroma of last night’s tequila following in her wake.

Tom met her at the door. He didn’t ask. She didn’t tell. 

She turned, waved, and mouthed a silent “I’m sorry,” as the door closed behind her. 

A few weeks later brother Tom and Daisy May invited my ever-patient spouse Barry and me over for a Little Party. We’d eat a little, play cards a little, and watch TV a little. ’Cause that’s what our Little Parties are. It makes for an evening with good friends, and it doesn’t put a dent in our budgets. 

I brought my super special extra chocolate brownies. Sharing calories is what we do well. 

We’d finished picking at the platter. TV time drew near. We loaded the last of the cheese and crackers on our Dixie dinnerware and headed toward the couch. Tom had dibs on the easy chair. Daisy May shoved in a dining room chair. Barry and I headed for the couch. We were set for a night of comedic capers from Everyday Housewives—a hidden-cameras snoop show. It was always hilarious. We were a little late, just past the commercials and intros, when Tom stopped channel surfing and landed on channel 9. 

O-M-G! There on the screen for all the world to see was this tipsy woman stuffing a cigar into the bartender’s tip jar. 

Daisy May gasped, clutched at her blouse, and slipped to the floor. 

“Fainted.” Barry said.

 “Looks like.” Tom commented. “Tell the fellows they can come in now.” 

Two young men in blue polo shirts appeared from behind the sliding glass door. 

“Here you go, guys, it was worth every penny,” Tom said, and handed them a fat envelope. 

“I kinda hate to part with that cassette,” the tall one said. “You know, it’s a shame Tom, that really would have made a great show.”

“It will, guys, it will…”