“CLETUS! Get your sorry wall-eyed hide back here this instant!”
Cletus ran faster.
Momma chased brother Cletus from here to hell and back again during the time we were growing up. I suppose he just had more fire in his belly than the rest of us. Momma always said she was tired. She was. But chasing Cletus never failed to keep her in good shape. He wasn’t like the rest of us.
The rest of us were Mary, Beau, Tell & then myself. Susie.
We were quiet and longfaced, like Daddy. Daddy had been a proud man before the depression. After the depression he came out broken.
I watched Cletus as he dove under under the windmill past the arroyos, cackling as Momma chased him.
Moments earlier he had thrust his little grubby hands deep into a fresh apple pie. Pies were few and far between in Momma’s kitchen. The fresh apples were a rarity south of Macon, and Momma wasn’t often in the spirits to make sweets. Cletus was always in the spirit to wreak havoc on a grand scale and test the ever-living-daylights out of Momma. He probably didn’t even like apples, he just like being chased.
With smeared apples and crust on his face he tore past the rest of us while I was mopping the floor and Mary was washing dishes.
Momma came up short of the sink, huffing and puffing with eyes darting back and forth. “Where’s Cletus??”
Tell ratted on Cletus: “Plamettos by the front door Momma..”
To be continued in part two…