Ms. Givens And Ms. Taker Go For A Walk

Something has got to give

Ms. Givens And Ms. Taker Go For A Walk

Here in the real world where things seem to make sense, Ms. Givens is fast asleep. She is the woman who lives in the center row home, the one with the large pristine tinted window glass, who goes by the name of Nancy. People who know her, including her friends and those who may be close to her, call her Ms. Givens. When she is not sleeping she is being rich, filthy rich and she loves every minute of it. Too bad old age has to get in the way of getting more out of life. Being eighty isn't much fun. She has good health. She has her money. Two out three isn't bad.

On the other side of the street there lives a neighbor, Ms. Taker. She is up and about drinking scotch whiskey with her drop of tea, while she drops a cracker on the floor for her ugly old dog. It has no name. She is lazy that way. Her little bungalow tells a story. It is not one of wealth. It is a sad one at that. The building should be condemned for lack of upkeep. It has not seen a stroke of paint in many years. The screen door is off its hinges and the front steps are broken. She must leap down to reach the sidewalk each day, which would be comical if it were not so pathetic and dangerous. Ms. Taker is getting up in years. She is in her late seventies or there abouts.

Meanwhile, outside, the world comes to life, populated with ordinary citizens who have to work for a living. They rise with the sun already beaming in the sky with equal smiles to get things done. For the most part it is a happy little community by an active prosperous sea port overlooking a vast ocean that seems to go on forever. It has a very busy fishing wharf. The quayside dock there serves two purposes. It is made of concrete with iron rebar standing tall, to protect them from the seas storm surge and it secures the many small boats for loading and unloading equipment and goods. It actually serves another added service. Ms. Givens and Ms. Taker both stroll frequently along the broad boardwalk there trolling for potential action, seeking potential husbands to take care of them. That ship has sailed but they can't be blamed for their initiative and imagination. The men in their lives died years ago. The details are sketchy.

This fine day Ms. Givens finally awakens and is dressing in a yellow print dress, the one with the matching ribbon about the waste and her favorite pink broad rimed hat. It makes her face look like the center of a rather large flower in bloom. She is on her way to the produce market just down the street near the wharf. Peaches and tomatoes are on her mind and not much else at this tender hour.

What's more, It had rained the night before, which ruined what could have been a perfectly lovely morning. The sidewalk is still slippery, wet and shining under the towering blue sky. The day is well under way, which happens to be bright and sunny in its blinding glare as Ms. Givens takes the concrete stairs one at a time slow and gently. A fall would not do her any good. Bones could break. Her plans derailed in an instant with one false step. She forgot her umbrella and sunglasses. She did not forget her money purse.

As fate would have it, Ms. Taker comes up from behind Ms. Givens, who was already half way down the street on her way to the market and taps her on the shoulder, which startled the older woman into a jolt followed by a scream. It was shocking to say the least. Ms. Taker says good morning to her neighbor, who was trying to gather her senses while adjusting the giant saucer shaped hat, which looked like it could have taken off into orbit at any moment.

Ms. Givens takes a deep breath and responds, “Good morning to you too my dear.” “Isn't it a lovely day?” Ms. Taker nods and grins. She apologizes for startling the woman but then quickly gets right down to business. She asks her well to do neighbor for a dollar. Ms. Givens, not given to small talk or mincing words responds, “My dear Ms. Taker, please leave me now!” “You have already consumed too much of my valuable time.” “I'm busy and you are becoming tiresome.”

Ms. Taker, who is a woman of the world, was not offended in the least by her neighbors comments. In fact she was emboldened by the negative sentiments being hurled in her direction. She is the epitome of poverty. She dresses funny. She smells funny. Ms. Givens was right to have misgivings about this woman and knew from the outset that it is, was and always will be a mistake to be in the company of this wretched woman. Madame Taker tried her best to keep things going in her direction. She gave the perfect answer. She smiled and told Ms. Givens that she was just kidding, just testing her constitution, testing her sense of humor.

They walked together down the street in awkward silence. Ms. Givens changed the subject. She asked the poor woman if she had met any new gentlemen suitors. She knew that ths line of questioning would get a rise out of her. Ms. Taker turned red and told the boldest lie she could conjure up on the spur of the moment. She said there are two wealthy older gentleman in her life. The one man comes from the city and has been begging her to come live with him there. He is a scientist working for the environmental agency and the other man is a “big time” lawyer from another country. She only gets to see him for a few days each month. He also has fallen head over heels in love with her and wants her to run away with him to a chalet in the Swiss Alps.

Ms. Givens stops in her tracks, faces the woman and says, “It's a cute tale my dear but you forgot to start your story with Once Upon A time.” “I'm Eighty not eight.”

Ms. Taker pulls out a tin flask from her dingy old coat and takes a big swig of whiskey then hands it to Ms. Givens. Naturally the older woman is repulsed and refuses the invitation. The elderly women move along at a brisker pace. They finally reach the market. Givens is desperate to rid herself of this leech, this vagabond, this rude obnoxious woman and curses her own fate for having such bad luck to have such a nasty neighbor and to have to deal with the blight that is her dilapidated shack situated directly across from her. The day is in a shambles. Out of shear desperation, Ms. Givens gives the parasite one dollar from her purse and tells her good-bye. She prayed that this little ploy would release her from the tentacles, the hooks, the obligation to continue with this torment, this torture, this hideous excuse for a woman. Ms. Taker wanted more from their relationship than just one measly single dollar. She wants it all. She pulls out a gun at that moment. It was real. It was loaded and she meant business.

Ms. Givens screams at the top of her lungs and falls to the ground hitting her head on the concrete sidewalk. Blood rushes out. Ms. Taker shoots her anyway and runs off down the street clutching her profits of the day. One dollar is one dollar. She smiles and runs even faster. Not bad for a lady in her seventies.