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Little Girls And Their Evil Ploys

Old Glory (in progress) <https://my.faso.com/viewer/?id=75586/6023742> 

"Old Glory" 6x6" Oil

Hi Subscriber,




Today I am sharing one of the stories I posted for paid members on
Patreon, since I am shutting down that account and no longer need to
hold back.




(Disclaimer: I no longer engage in acts of revenge as described in this
story).




So as a Labor Day treat, here is...




How My First Love Lost His Marbles Part 1

Excerpt from Memoirs of a Lastling

By Jan Dale

©All Rights Reserved




Alan was my first real love. I was mesmerized by the elusive dimples on
his left cheek and his thick shock of brown-black hair which
disarranged itself most engagingly across his forehead. 




His eyelashes were the envy of every little girl in our small rural
school. I was in love with him from the moment I saw him, yet I never
had the nerve to let on. Eight-year-old kids just don't voice such
things, especially if they are afflicted from birth, as I was, with a
lazy-eye.




So I did the next-best thing. I showed him my marbles. I knew I could
win easily if we played. I was a crack shot and rarely missed an
opportunity to completely wipe out an opponent's stash.




I had an impressive collection of boulders, aggies, calicoes, cat's
eyes, steelies, and cloudies to prove it. I'd also left an impressive
number of victims weeping in my wake. 




But winning was not my objective this time as I carefully loaded a few
of my favorites into my pocket.




I brought this sampling of my lovelies to school to woo and to win
Alan's heart. I imagined him pressing his fingertips to his chest in
admiration of my marbling prowess. In my mind's eye I saw him following
after me like a lovesick pup when he saw what great treasures I
possessed.




I was not prepared for his aloof dismissal of my collection and his
dubious expression as I tried to explain the intricacies of the game.
For Alan, I found out, had never played marbles. 




Then quite suddenly it came to me what might entice him . . . and I
turned adroitly to flattery.




"I bet you'd be good at it," I said slowly with a simpering voice and a
flutter of lashes.




"Nawww. . . . .Think so?"




"Sure, I said, " a small harmless fib. He seemed unconvinced.

"I'm not very good at it, " I said, ..an outright lie that almost stuck
in my throat. 




Alan suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands and feet, or where
to look. Hah! I had him now.




"Wanna try? We can use mine," I offered, as though the idea had only
just then occurred to me.




"Ohhhhh. . .kay." He grinned, . . and those irresistible dimples came
out to play. Alan's chest by now was so puffed out that he almost
popped a shirt button. This was working even better than I'd hoped.




I thought it would be hard to fake a loss, but it was surprisingly easy.




Shoop. . There went the blue-green cat's eye. Plink. . The orange and
brown calico followed it into his pocket. Shlip. Plink. Shoop. Gladly I
surrendered my hard-won puries, steelies, and boulders.




I felt so powerful and clever as I let him win almost every marble I
had on me that first day. I brought more with me next time. And each
day, Alan spent his entire recess with me and only me . . . until the
day I neglected to grab the last handful I possessed. 




I don't know what made me forget, but after I'd left for school, I felt
that strange flush of foreboding legendary to females of any age. 




No matter. We could talk instead, I lied to myself.




(To be continued next week..)

Solo Show Invitation <https://my.faso.com/viewer/?id=75586/6221592> 

Solo Show Reception Invite

Just 3 weeks away now!




Here's the new invitation for my solo show and the schedule of events.




Solo Show begins officially on September 23 and runs through November
1st.

Normal gallery hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 12-6PM.




The Artist's Reception is 

Sept 26 5-7 PM.




Hope to see you there!




A delightful chill is in the air now here in SE Michigan.

I can hear the birds in the old apple tree, chattering giddily over the
fruit.

Until next Saturday,...




I bid you Birdsong!




Jan




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