PICKLES AND CHARLEY ICE CREAM

Pickles and Charley Ice Cream

Pickles, he says, kicking a rock

Outta the way with his scuffed up old shoe

And I says, Yessir?

Pickles, he repeats, What say you and me

Run off right here in the middle of the week

And go git ourselves married?

And I says, I can’t do that, Mr Charley

And he frowns, Why not?

‘Cause I’m just a kid, I says

I got to get outta the 4th grade first!

And he grins, Ain’t you been in the 4th grade

For nigh on ten years?

And I says, I reckon so

But you know why that is,

On account of Miz Ratlipp don’t know how

To teach nothing but the 4th grade

And they can’t git no more teachers

To come up here in these parts.

Then why don’t you just quit? he asks

And knocks a fruit jar off a fence

With a slingshot

I don’t know, I answer,

‘Cause I like school, maybe

Maybe I  just like readin’ and stuff.

I cain’t read, he sniffs, that’s why

I gotta take you to the store with me

So they won’t give me no taters

When I ask for turmaters

And he pushes the hair outta his eyes

And winks at me like an old gray haired fool.

But taters are brown, Mr Charley, I says

And maters are red!

Why you can’t tell ‘em apart?

You don’t have to read to know your colors!

And he blushes and says,

Yeah, well, I’m colorblind, too.

And we walk along in silence for a bit

And he says, Why you always

Gotta call yore teacher out her name?

You know her name be Mz Rattcliff!

That’s just mean, just plain mean!

I know, I giggle, but I don’t mean to stop.

She a purty woman, he says softly

Like you, purty and fine and smart as a whip!

Why, Mr Charley! I laugh and look away,

You just asked me to marry you

And here you are talkin’ bout another woman!

Well, you says you too young to marry, he says

Well, you too old! I yell, You too old to vote!

You so old, your blood done turned to dust

Right there in your veins!

And you can remember all the way back to Moses!

He put his gnarled hands into his back pockets

And says, Yeah, yeah, I reckon I can

Moses wuz a right smart young feller for 82

But he wuz always gittin’ us in trouble

And wouldn’t let us eat no onions.

And I look at him like he crazy

(And he is!)

And I says, Mr Charley?

And he says, What?

I chewed me a nice blade of grass

And I says, Why you like me so much?

‘Cause me and you go together, he grins

We is like two peas in a pod

You tall and skinny and I’m short and fat

You watch out fer me and I watch out fer you

And I been knowin’ you all of yore life.

Yeah, I says, You knew my grand-daddy

And his grand-daddy and his great-grand-daddy…..

And his….

Heck! he huffs, I ain’t near as old as all that!

Well, didn’t you tell me you was here

Before the Indians come?

I lie a lot, he says, blowing out his breath

And looking embarrassed

I ain’t got nuthin’ better to do

You don’t really bulieve anythin’ I says, do you?

‘Course not, I tease him,

You even lie about your name!

No. No………..

I never lie bout my name, he protests

Never ’bout that!

Ah, hell, Mr Charley, I says,

You know your name

Ain’t no Charley Ice Cream!

Is, too! He pouts, Is, too! Is, too!

And he looks almost like he’s gonna cry

So I simmer down and get quiet for a bit

Cause we all know how sensitive he is

And we all know how he got that name.

When he was born, his mama couldn’t keep him

She give birth to ‘im and hid him in an ice cream truck

That was being driven outta town to a far away city

That broke down where we live

Way back here in the hills.

When they found him

They said he was like a little blue icicle

With blue eyes to boot and little blue toes

And Granny Simmons took him in

And raised him and named him Charley

And she loved that boy for a mighty long time

Until the day she died.

That was a long time before my time

And I never knew Granny Simmons

But I heard tell she was an awful good woman

And her daughter’s wild daughter

Became my mama

(And she couldn’t keep me neither.)

So she gave me away

And I grew up, in this place and that

And folks took care of me till I was big enough

To be on my own and do for myself

And I live in what’s left of Granny Simmon’s old house.

Mr Charley lives down the road

In a remodeled old chicken coop

And he gets his check and we go to town

And he buys me butter pecan ice cream

And teases me about getting married

And I reckon we do alright.

I don’t rightly know how old he is

Heck, I don’t even know how old I am!

They just started keeping records up here

And nobody remembers

And nobody much cares.

Pickles, Mr Charley says after a while

What you gonna be when you grow up?

I don’t know, Mr Charley, I shake my head

Maybe a cash register girl at the dime store?

Or a waitress at one of them cafes?

Naw, he says, You gonna do better’n that!

I seen a movie once at a movie house

And they have these real purty ladies

With real shiny hair, all golden and fine

And I mean to see you a- makin’ movies one day!

Really, Mr Charley? I says, all excited

You really think I could do that kinda stuff?

And live in big houses and look beautiful?

And he says, Yes, mam! You already got the gold hair!

The only thing we have to do is maybe change yore name!

And we walked on right in to town

Just a-plannin’ and dreamin’ and Mr Charley, he says,

Pickles, you wait, girl, just you wait!

He was gonna take me to see a real live movie!

Soon as we could catch us a ride

Up to that big ole city.

Mr Charley was always telling me tales like that

But I listened and I smiled and I let him talk

He really  wasn’t no kin to me but he was all I had

No body knew where that boy had come from

Or who his real family was.

Till one day,

This limo rolled up into town

And a man in a suit with a tan and a smile

Asked all around about an old man named Charley

And the townsfolk just stared

And pointed our way.

Pickles? Mr Charley says

And I says, What?

Ain’t this here a mighty fine car?

And I says, It surely is, Mr Charley, it surely is

And we put down the windows

And let the breeze blow back our hair.

I don’t know where we’re going to

But we goin’ there in style

All the town and country folk

Lined up to watch us go

Yelling, Good luck in L.A.! and shouting, Ya’ll write!

And waving at Pickles and Charley Ice Cream.

Mr Charley? I says as we head toward the west

What, Pickles? he asks as the chauffeur speeds up

You think it’s time to change my name?

I don’t know how I got this ole name anyhow!

I do, he says with a mischievous grin

Yore mama left you in a pickle jar!

©by Voo

May 22, 2011

11:46 p.m.