Rox

“I’m not doing it. You can’t make me!” I hiss at Mari, holding my breath and plastering myself against the wall just as sister Agnes passes by, her habit kicking up so high with her Stalin paced march I see two cactus stumps staring back at me with every step she takes.

“Come on Rox! I promised Lizzie I’d get her purse from the office and you know I can’t move that fast anymore, what with my poor baby being in my belly.” She pouts, making my lip curl at the blatant lie.

We’re currently huddled behind the office wall in the rectory because Aunt Lizzie forgot her purse in the church and almost became hysterical when she saw sister Agnes pick it up.

It took twenty minutes of questioning, but I’m gaggingly amused by the fact that my God fearing aunt, the very one who always told me God would punish me for my perverted mind, is nearly apoplectic with fear because she’s carrying a dirty magazine in her purse.

Now mind you, she maintains she confiscated it from Abe-who flatly denies any such thing-but the fact still remains, that nun will eventually look in there and discover that Lizzie is a corrupt and depraved soul. Just as Ginny has been maintaining for years since she discovered what those animal noises coming from her parents’ bedroom were.

When we were ten, Ginny got so scared thinking a wild cat was loose in the house she ran into her mama’s room, crying and screaming. Hehe! Turns out the only pussy on that menu was Lizzie and poor Ginny spent like half a decade truamatized and bewildered until she realized that Lizzie makes more than just the beasts with two back behind closed doors.

Yuck!

“Rox.”

“No. you do it. The last time that old bag caught me in her office I had to scrub the toilets that the nuns use. They realllllllly like corn Mari. So much corn.” I whine, crying a little inside at the memory.

Mari hisses and sucks at her teeth, just the way Lizzie and Ro do when they’re not happy and levels her bad eye at me.

“You owe me after I got Grayson to pull Ty off the Bahamas deal.”

“You went to the freaking Bahamas with Gray!” I huff, hating her glowing tan and the all round health that just shoots off her like crazy.

Sad, sad fact but I am so head over heels in love with Tyson I can’t hardly see straight anymore. I think about him constantly, make excuses to see him, going so far as to put up with Stinker who makes my stomach turn so bad I have to stop eating a day in advance before I go over to Ty’s place.

I am so into the man, I once stole his sweaty shirt when we all went to the park to play soccer and sleep with it under my pillow. And he doesn’t even see me, I think, hating my plain brown hair and eyes so much I could just shoot my mama for it. Well, unless I got that flaming red hair, then I would really be screwed because those weeds…not my style.

“Yeah, okay, but still. You asked me to make sure Ty didn’t go over there only to be snapped up by some island beauty and I came through for you. You freaking owe me. Now go in there and steal from the fucking nun.”

Dammit.

My nerves are freaking shot to hell as I peek around the corner and crab scuttle my butt towards the door, my breathing so heavy my chest is paining with the fear that rides me.

Yeah, I owe Mari for keeping my beautiful Ty from finding island love, but dammit, if that nun catches me I will save myself from the corn and out Lizzie like a freaking narc.

The office is just as I remember it; dark, small and smelling of talc and what I hope is onions because I refuse to believe that nuns fart. Gross.

Scuttling up to my feet, I dive for the desk and search it with shaking hands, my eyes darting to the door every two seconds as terror hits me. I’m sweating bullets and wheezing by the time I realize the purse isn’t in there and panic a little before my eye lands on the filing cabinet.

The drawer makes the loudest shrieking sound I have ever heard and I whimper as I drag it open, my heart pounding harder as the seconds tick by.

Drawer one holds nothing but files and I feel my ass clench with fear at the thought of having to drag at the others, knowing full well they’ll make enough noise to raise the dead.

Two. Nada, empty.

Its only as I huff and drag open the last one, the freaking thing getting stuck a quarter of the way through that I see the purse and feel a sense of victory hit me.

Not thinking twice I snatch it out, holding in a cry of pain when my hand comes back scraped and bloody only to hear the all too familiar sound of hard, staccato footsteps coming down the hallway.

Oh My God!

Panicking in the midst of committing a robbery on a nun is not smart, I know this, but my mind shuts down automatically as I turn in circles, looking for a place to hide. Anywhere! Please Lord, I think, panting loudly when the steps come closer and I see the door handle creak down.

Just before I’m ready to dive face first out of the closed window and make a broken, bloody run for it I spot the corner where Sister Agnes has her potted plants and pray to God there’s enough foliage to hide my ass.

“Yes father, I agree. The children’s programme needs more content.”

Oh Gooood, please tell me he’s not-

My heart explodes when none other than the Father himself walks into the office along with the nun and sits down in the chair across from her desk, the leaves in my face slightly obscuring my view.

Now, I hear them, I mean it’s freaking impossible not to from this vantage point but all I can concentrate on is the sound of my own ragged breathing and the drumbeat in my chest as the sister lifts…not the watering can, I moan inside, smelling that floating corn so hard my stomach heaves again.

Can’t do it. Can’t do that again, I think wildly, eying the window in sheer desperation as she comes closer, slowly, her movements so out of synch I know it’s my mind trying to shutdown and not some evil reveal or anything.

God please. If you just spare me this I will never, ever again masturbate while smelling Tyson’s shirt-

Wait, no, I can’t keep that promise. I mean, I could make that deal but I’m pretty sure lying to God is a one way ticket to hell and no way no how will I ever go there. I mean if I die I actually want to escape mama.

Okay! I got it. If you spare me this I will never, ever be rude to mama-

Wait, no, just give me a minute, I plead to the heavens, knowing I will never keep that promise either because Jesus help me, my mam is a trial and I am definitely not capable of going cold turkey with the need to niggle mama frequently.

I’m still contemplating my bargaining chip when my time runs out and the sister reaches her bush-hehe- the watering can held high, spots me and lets off an ear piercing scream.

Well. I mean-

“Roxeletta Crocker?” the sister gasps, taking a step back in fright when I face her like a cornered animal, my flight or fight mode kicking in so hard my knees start quaking.

Now honestly, she’s standing between me and the only means of escape I have at this point because yes, I now acknowledge that throwing myself out of a second story window is just sheer madness.

So I mean, what do you all expect me to do? I’m just human! And I freaking hate knowing that nuns are human too because mama always told me they’re blessed angels and well, it’s a nightmare knowing what comes out of those blessed asses.

If that’s what being holy entails, well, I’ll be wicked and save my asshole.

“I…” I pause, at a loss as to what to say at this point. “Sorry. But the corn! The corn sister. I won’t survive it again.” I scream, my decision made.

 

I bolt up, kicking plants every which way and almost snicker at the shock on their faces when purse held to my chest I make a life or death decision that probably has no good ending either which way I play it.

“Crocker.”

Mari’s waiting for me as I rush out and grabs my hand, letting out a yell of terror when the clop of those shoes starts drumming behind us.

“Oh God, run Rox.”

And we do. Hard. Breathing heavily. Slipping and flailing on the slippery, highly polished floors as the sister thunders after us.

“Jesuuus, is she like the freaking Terminator!” Mari yells, her face a study in fascinated fear when we smash into the wall directly in front of us and slip before gaining traction and running right.

I look back for a split second and almost laugh when I see that black habit billowing out as sister Agnes runs our way, looking like a machine in all her hairy legged glory.

“I know your family!”

“We’re sorry!” I yell, flinging us through the door and hitting the pavement at a dead run. “We know they’re terrible but God loves all his children.”

“Yeah, even you sister Mary Ag-ass face,” Mari yells, just because she can and well, because she’s Mari.

I feel all kinds of free at that moment as we beat feet down the street, Mari snorting through her mirth, me feeling all Gump-like as I finally get one over on the system that is the Catholic family way.

I feel like I just won, like my life now has meaning. I mean…

And that’s how I end up with an aversion not only to corn, but broccoli as well. Man, those nuns do not understand low fibre diets.