Monday, February 15, 2010
Strawberry Patch
Milt Patworth sat in the middle of the berry patch eating his mother's prize-winning strawberries. He found the biggest, juiciest berry he could spot within stretching distance, plucked it from its emerald nest, and popped it into his mouth. Look, find, pluck, eat. Look, find, pluck, eat. Again and again. Milt knew he shouldn't be sitting in the patch. He was crushing the delicate plants beneath him. Milt knew he shouldn't be eating the biggest and best strawberries. He wasn't allowed to eat any strawberries from the garden at all, at least not until the country fair was over. Milt knew his mother would be furious. He wouldn't be able to hide his deed. The juice dribbled down his chin and stained his mouth, fingers, and bare chest. The bib of his faded old overalls was almost purple with berry juice and he knew that, when he finally stood up, the seat of his overalls would be covered with dirt clumps. And yet, all that didn't matter at the moment because he'd just found the biggest and juiciest strawberry of all and he could just reach it if he scooted his bottom two inches to the left. He grabbed the top of the berry with his red-tipped fingers and pulled. The plant sprang backward as the berry he tugged on tumbled from its hiding place, bounced through his fingers, and rolled to a stop in the black dirt. Milt picked up the fat strawberry and rubbed the dirt from the red skin with his thumb. Then he threw back his head and dropped the entire berry into his waiting jaws and chewed. The juice squirted from his mouth and trickled down his throat. His teeth flattened the potential prize-winner and he licked the remains from his lips as he swallowed the succulent berry. "Milton Bradley Patworth, what in tarnation are you doin' sitting in my prize strawberry patch and ruinin' my plants and chompin' down my best berries?" Uh oh Milt thought, turning to look at his mother standing at the edge of the garden in her flowered house dress and apron. He knew he was in for a whipping this time. His mother's face was as red as the strawberry he'd just eaten.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Oh, man, I absolutely love the name "Milt Patworth!" This is an adorable story, and I love his mother's accent. You're such a great writer!
ReplyDeleteVery nice! Now I'm hungry for locally grown strawberries. The ones that I bought at Walmart just didn't cut it. :(
ReplyDelete