If I am repaired, can we meet again for the first time, in all of the places I have feared to go, and then, again, in all of the places I will have forgotten, if I am repaired?



Thursday, January 13, 2011

Marley Kincaid

“Kyle spread peanut butter on a mouse trap yesterday with one of Mom’s butter knives,” Karl said.

     Marley looked into the jar of Jif Extra-Crunchy, then at the dollop of peanut butter on the blade of the butter knife in her hand, then at Karl.

     Karl Kincaid was Marley’s cousin. He and Marley were both eight years old. Karl however, was born in June, the month before Marley. When Kyle wasn't trying to gross Marley out, a task he seemed to live for, he was reminding her of this one month difference, as if it were five whole years.

     Marley spent weekends during summer vacation at her aunt and uncle’s Dairy farm in Bridgeport. Marley loved the Kincaid’s farm, even with Karl on it: the huge barns stuffed with hay and hidden nest of eggs and kittens, the wobbly-legged calves, the garden as big as her whole yard in town, peaches and raspberries and the fishing pond with its frog-lined banks and lazy turtles.

     When she grew up, Marley wanted a farm just like the Kincaid’s, everything exactly the same. Except maybe, Karl.

     Kyle was Karl’s older brother. Kyle was in the eighth-grade, and certainly not beyond spreading peanut butter onto a mouse trap with a butter knife. Worse, Marley thought, Kyle was not beyond wiping the knife clean on his pant leg and placing it back in the drawer with the others.

     But there were a dozen miss-matched butter knives in the silverware drawer. Marley weighed the odds. Only one out of twelve knives was contaminated, if there actually was a contaminated knife, and Karl hadn't made the whole thing up. She liked her chances. 

     "So," she said, spreading the peanut butter on her saltine.     


  1. Ah, Kincaid's a good name, isn't it? I always thought it had a wild west feel. Can't you hear John Wayne saying, "Oh-kay, Kin-caid"?

    Sorry I dropped by your dormant blog. I can never decide which to visit with peeps have more than one.

  2. Tess...

    It is, it does, and I can.

    Not a problem. Thank you for taking the time to switch. Maybe it's time to 'hide' Gloria.

  3. Steven,

    An interesting story, and I love how the ending was cut off without saying what happened. You get the idea that Kyle probably did what Karl claims he did, but we dont' know for sure. I can only imagine the panic that poor Marley is going through!

    On a side note, please don't hide "Gloria". I've been meaning to go back and check out some of the old posts, but I haven't had the chance .....I love your stories about her. Please don't delete it just yet.

  4. Just for you Emmy.

    Oddly, this little scene hit me as I nearly spread peanut butter on to a mouse trap last night.

  5. When I look at young boys I think "boy you guys are in for a rude shock when you discover that girls are smarter than boys, have long memories and ,like mules, will wait for years if need be to get even".

    It is not necessary to decide which blog to check. Just subscribe to the RSS feed to both.

  6. oh I agree, Stephen, don't hide Gloria .. I was reading there just the other night and if you could of heard me you would have known how much I enjoyed myself.

    and OF, I didn't know that mules were that way
    ... it does explain why they are so slow... always figuring if this is the right moment..

  7. OF...
    It's probably some form of idolatry... my gravitation to the female characters.

    Well, okay. She is, after all, my one and only.


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