Garden Party
The garden party was in full swing when Gertrude waddled in, fussing with her red, feathered hat the whole way. She made her way over to the table where her two oldest friends, Winifred and Mildred, were waiting for her.
“You are twenty-five minutes late, Gertrude,” said the thin, severe-looking Winifred. “What kept you?”
“You probably just fell in the toilet again, didn’t ya, Gertie?” Mildred joked, letting out a dry wheezing gasp of a laugh. She was a cheerful, hunched old lady with coke-bottle glasses.
“Oh, it’s not that interesting, I wouldn’t want to bore you,” Gertrude replied.
“Bore us? Unless you happen to be late because you stopped to watch your lawn grow, any story would be a marked improvement over this party,” Winfred said dryly.
“Yeah, all the excitement’s gone out of these things since Hattie stopped mixin’ her meds,” Mildred added with another wheezing gale of laughter.
“Oh, very well then, I’ll tell you,” Gertrude said with mock exasperation. “This morning the boy who mows my yard showed up asking for money. Of course, I paid him last week, he’s only supposed to mow every other week, but he was trying to save up money for one of those game thingies, and he figures I’m too senile to remember when I paid him last.”
“That’s terrible,” Winifred said, gathering herself to start her “youth-of-today” speech.
“What’d ya do?” Mildred asked, before Winifred could start.
“I took my kitchen knife and sliced his throat right open. You never saw such a surprised look on someone’s face.” Gertrude chuckled.
“Gertrude dear, you should not be making such statements!” Winifred said disapprovingly.
“Oh dear, you’re right,” Gertrude replied evenly, drawing a bloody kitchen knife from her handbag. “I’m going to have to eliminate witnesses now, aren’t I?”
There was a muffled bang, and Gertrude slumped forward onto the table, upsetting the flower vase.
“Millie, you realize you’ve ruined the purse I lent you?” Winfred said irritably, pointing to the smoking hole the in the purse’s side where the gun had fired through the material.
“Sorry, Winnie. It couldn’t be helped,” Mildred replied. Then she chuckled.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell her that you don’t bring a knife to a garden party?”