Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


November 22nd 2014 in Microfiction

Eleanor sat in a chair holding the pan of bars on her lap, thinking it through. Several of her friends came up, asking when the goodies would be served, but she didn’t answer right away; Eleanor didn’t like to be pressured. After almost 20 minutes, she stood up, took the cover off of the pan and moved to the desserts table. “Yay!” Alma said at the head of the line. “There’s marijuana in these,” Eleanor said, quietly but clearly. Alma’s hand hung in mid-air, her mouth open. “Cherry cordial pot brownies,” Eleanor said again a little louder. “In case you want to live a little.” The bars were gone in less than five minutes, and Doug Cabot had taken a small flask out of his vest pocket and tipped a little into the church coffee with a sly wink in her direction. The cake donuts sat in a pile, untouched, but Eleanor thought they’d probably be gone later (if what she’d heard was correct). “84 is going to be a really interesting year,” she whispered, packing up.

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