View source for Little Helpers/Epilogue

'''Little Helpers'''

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'''Epilogue'''

The hot summer months followed the same path they started with; which was very nice. I’m afraid I was spoiled by the attention Sara gave me it earned the Misses Palm a well deserved holiday.

As the skies turned grey when fall rolled in, so did my disposition. It gutted me when Sara came over crying and told me, “Mum took another job and we have to move.”

And yet a further blow came, more like a dagger twisted in my heart, when Jean came to me for comfort. How could I possibly live without my girls?

The city was two hours by rail and I knew there was no option other than for them to move. There was a deep hole inside my chest that Emma and the girls had filled for many years. After I saw them off for the last time, I mixed my tears with a bottle of whisky and passed out in my lounge chair.

Two months later, house hunters began to parade around Emma’s old place and sometimes tread into my garden. The estate agent signs came down and I knew the place had sold. I believe I dreaded the thought of the new, and possibly annoying neighbours I would soon be faced with.

That was until a little snow bunny came trudging through my garden door and I stopped dead in my tracks when I saw her. Her bright and shining smile struck me, as it peered from her heavy cap and scarf. Her short curly golden locks were plastered to her face with melted snow but her cheeks were blushed with a rosy glow below piercing blue eyes.

She blurted out, “Mum locked me out when she left and I need the loo. May I use yours?”

“You certainly may, love. Right up the stairway on the right,” then I heard the loud thump of her boots as she bounded across the landing and up the stairs two at a time. The girl was so achingly beautiful her presence left a firm impression on me; in my pants. Only the two little birds I had so recently lost managed that kind of response.

After she had finished, she tromped back though into the kitchen and announced, “Thank you Mister. I was just bursting. My name is Sarah with an ‘h’, Mabry. What do I call you?”

“My pleasure, Sarah with and ‘h’ Mabry. Just call me Billy. No sense in the Mister. We’re not all that proper around here.”

She looked directly at my evident tent and smiled, then told me, “Thank you, Billy. I really like you and would like to visit with you sometime,” then off the little bird flew out the door.

I watched her run across the garden and thought about the way she smiled when she saw my bulge. It made me wonder if she had ever helped a man get his sperm out. Somehow, I believed I would soon have an answer to that question.

'''The End'''

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