A Day in the Life of Miss Flossy Tringle

By Larnette Phillips

 

 

          When you live like Miss Flossy lives, sometimes, even a hussy needs to set about repenting.  It was Saturday, and the only church she knew to attend so she could absolve herself of her sins was the nearest Catholic Church.  Even though Miss Lacy Bell wasn’t Catholic, Miss Flossy was quite sure, when she told her, that she would be proud of her for taking this first step.  So, the only place she knew was The Church of the Little Flower near downtown Crowell…

          Promptly at seven a.m. Miss Flossy arrived at the front door of the church. She figured she might have to get in line since there were so many people with so much to repent of.  Sin being sin and the world being what it was these days she’d take a number if that’s what you did when you waited for a priest.  She had no idea—in fact, this was the first time she’d been inside a church and she was sure the choir would sing and the angels would stand on their heads.

          She knocked on the front door.  In minutes, a priest opened it.  “I’m Father John Thomas, can I help you?” he asked.

          “Yes, uh, I’ve come for confession—and I’ve never been to confession before.”

          “Ah—confession is good for the soul. Follow me.”

          She followed the swish of his robe and the pendulum swing of his cross to what must have been the tiniest room she’d ever seen.  “In here,” he said, motioning her inside.

          Miss Flossy wasn’t claustrophobic; she’d been in some tight places but never quite like this.  She sat down with a thump. The hard seat hurt her butt, but she could live with it.  She straightened her bloomers and smoothed her unruly hair. God might be watching!

          Suddenly, she heard Father John Thomas’ voice from the other side.  “How long since your last confession?”

          “Let me see,” said Miss Flossy with a thoughtful expression on her face that he couldn’t see.  She began to scowl; she couldn’t remember ever repenting of her sins, except one night seven years ago when she smacked a man for getting fresh with her after only one dinner.  She guessed that was it.  “Seven years,” she said, smiling broadly under her pale blue hat with the tiny satin ribbon around it.

          “Seven years?” shouted the priest without hesitation.  “Dear Jesus, I’ll be here until the better part of next week.  Oh, excuse me, go ahead. What have your sins been, my dear?”

          “Well, I don’t know what you call sin so I’ll just do the best I can.  I’ve slept with a lot of dogs in my life but none as of late.  Most of the gentlemanly callers have been so nice.  But the dogs, well now, they were quite a few.”

          “Lie down with dogs and you will surely catch his fleas,” added the priest with a cough.

          “They have a spray for that, Father…I’m in the dog business,” she added with a laugh.

          He had a live one here, that’s for sure.  “What are your other sins?”

          “Well, I lied to my last date.  I told him I was 32 and I’m really 54.  I also cussed my Uncle Elmer after I chased his ole crazy bull.”

          “Aging is a natural process but lying, well that is one of God’s gravest sins.  Always tell the truth and cussing—that’s not good.  The Lord has a rule about that, too.”

          “Well, if you had a crazy Black Angus Bull that crapped on you and pulled you down a trench, you just might cuss.  Then what would you do?”

          “Say ten Hail Mary’s and ask for forgiveness.”

          “I don’t know Mary—I’m just getting around to talking to Jesus.”

          “Well, that’s the best place to start.  Are there other sins?”

          “I told a gentlemanly caller that I’d never had plastic surgery.  I mean, my boobs are real but I told him I’d never had a tummy tuck.  I’ve had my stomach sucked out so many times you’d think I was a vacuum cleaner.  Are pride and vanity sins?”

          “Yes, I’m afraid so.”

          “And oh yes, Miss Lacy Bell told me I shouldn’t ask a man for a date.  Is that a sin?”

          “I don’t see how it is—you can do that if you want.”

          “Well, thank God! I do it all the time!  At least I’m doing something right.  I fell over on Clarence, knocked him out of his chair—it was awful!  It was our first date and my heavenly cleavage landed in his face!”

          “What did he do?”

          “Well, what do you think he did?  He took advantage of the situation and reached for heaven.”

          “Send Clarence to see me; he needs to confess and ask God’s mercy for his sins.”

          “Father?”
          “Yes?”

          “Well, I was arrested once—you see, me and the town hussies—oh, have you heard of us?”

          “Why, yes.  I’d say everybody in town has heard of them.  Are you one of the hussies?”

          “Yes, I am.”

          He knew them by reputation.  He crossed himself, not once, but three times for good measure.  “What were you arrested for?”

          “You see, we went shopping.  It was Christmas and that’s one of our annual outings.  We went to a women’s lingerie store and bought ourselves some beautiful, womanly things.  You never know when opportunity will strike, and it’s always best to be prepared.  Dear Jesus, what am I saying?  I’m talking to a priest, for God’s sake.”

          “Yes, for God’s sake, you sure are. Go ahead.”

          “Anyway, I was talking to this man and I don’t think I did anything wrong.  I didn’t touch him and didn’t lean over and give him a view of heaven.  Next thing I knew he turns out to be an undercover cop and he arrested me for solicitation.  I didn’t even know what that was until they explained it to me when they booked me.  It was awful.  I said some nasty words about that cop.”

          “Your sins are forgiven, Miss Flossy.  Are there more?”  He was sure there were so many he would never get to Mass again if this continued.  This was sometimes the peril of being a good parish priest.

          “Why, I’m afraid so—but don’t you have other sinners waiting?”

          The world was full of ‘em. “Yes, I’m afraid so.  Why don’t we make a regular date for confession, say every Saturday at 7:00 until you feel cleansed from your sins?”

          “Yes, that will be fine—and I’ll bring some shower gel just incase we have to use them to help wash the sins away.”

          When she stepped out of the confessional and saw the priest on the other side, she realized why there had been such a hint of familiarity when he answered the door.  He wasn’t a real priest…he was the janitor who had a part-time job also cleaning Miss Tova’s office.  So, that’s where she’d seen him!

          “Oh, Father John Thomas?”

          “Yes, dear?”  He turned his head in her direction.

          “I’d say I have one more sin I will have to repent for.”

          “What is that?”

          “You lying scum!  You aren’t a priest—you’re the janitor who cleans Miss Tova’s office.  Are you a janitor here?”

          “Aw, Miss Flossy, I didn’t mean no harm.  I had to see you close up; Father don’t know I sometimes imitate him—to help him out, you know—there’s so many afflicted anymore.”

          “Well, I hope you can’t walk after this—I got really good aim!” And with that, she pulled off her blue high heels and aimed them at his crotch as he stood there, frozen in his tracks, terror on his face.  “Let’s see if you can use that part of your anatomy by the time I get through!”

          He grabbed his crotch as the heels flew and limped down the hall. 

          She ran after him.  “If you can find your manhood after I’m finished, you can have it.  Then maybe if I feel like it, I’ll repent.”

 

         

          To be continued.

 

The Town Hussies of Texas and A Day in the Life of Miss Flossy Tringle is written by Larnette Phillips and is the sole creation of Larnette Phillips.  The Town Hussies of Texas is a quarterly magazine; for more information, please go to:  http://www.larnettephillips.webs.com  and for more info on the weekly adventures of Miss Flossy Tringle, go to http://flossytringle.blogspot.com  You can also follow Miss Flossy Tringle on Twitter.

 

LARNETTE PHILLIPS has been a full-time author and novelist since 1991.  She now owns and runs her own publishing and production company of her creative projects.  She is also the creator of The Poor Clares of Washington, a political satire serialization. She is the author of the novel Sully and Me and Seasons.