With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
Except, Bessie's hubby committed adultery years ago, leaving a 30+ year marriage beyond reproach...
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling
Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
Oh sure, she was lonely, but.... today, October 31, 2024 was all about something different. Bessie had reached age 65, Medicare set... after 34 years of driving to/fro the factory, retirement loomed the next day, November Uno.
You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
Hush Van, this is about Bessie making it to November 1. The day began like any other... Coffee on, quick shower.. microwaved scrambled eggs, some ham and cheese tossed in. She peeked outside.. Eerie. Very eerie. Dark, fog consumed the view. Perfection given by Nature for the soon to march little goblins and vampires.
Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?
Van, that ain't what this is about. Sure Bessie was...... close your ears... 'that'... but she had given into the fact Romance, Moondance, making love - were simply a button, song dialed up on Spotify, and she was OK with that.
Well, I wanna make love to you tonight
I can't wait 'til the mornin' has come
You know, I know now the time is just right
And straight into my arms you will run
Making love was now = retirement.
Tomorrow. Retirement, tomorrow.
And when you come, my heart will be waiting
To make sure that you're never alone
There and then all my dreams will come true, dear
There and then I will make you my own
Hair now mostly dry, clothed, she grabbed her coat, headed out the door for THE last day at the factory. Car cranked, a ding went off. "Damnit, I need gas." Dark, windy as hell, leaves, limbs, blowing horizontally across the road, a light rain falling.. Spooky as hell. She could do it. One more day.
And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside
And I know how much you want me, that you can't hide
Sure, retirement wanted her, or was it her wanting retirement. The lights from the car way too damn close behind blinded her. Why? Why so close? Bessie, it's Victurd the blogger and I ask the same damn thing virtually every morning. Are they jealous of my 2002 Buick Century with one window (mostly) taped up?
Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?
Make it thru the day. Punch in, give my all, Bessie dreamed of sleeping until 10am November 1. The car behind also turned into the Caseys to fuel up. Right behind her. She'd dodged 7 downed limbs, couldn't see the damn white lines - but, managed to make it to pump 8 to fill.
Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance
With the stars up above in your eyes
A fantabulous night to make romance
'Neath the cover of October skies
The "who the hell is in that car" presently won out over her thoughts of romance, making love - RETIREMENT, the next day. The fact the TWO guys in the car behind were wearing masks... Were they still skimpish of Covid? Dressed up for Halloween for work? Or, were they murderers who would rob, kill her, thereby removing any hope of an AARP card in her billfold.
And all the leaves on the trees are falling
To the sound of the breezes that blow
You know I'm trying to please to the calling
Of your heartstrings that play soft and low
Watching her closely, she punched the wrong dayum debit card 4 digit pin number in wrong six times. One guy pumped gas in the dark colored car, the other guy sat in the passenger seat, and Bessie swore his phone had a binocular app as it was trained right on her shaky hand, this time, correctly getting the pin # right.
You know the night's magic seems to whisper and hush
You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush
Later Van, this is serious crap. Bessie finished fueling... got her phone out... punched in 9 1, leaving it readied for entering the last 1, should they force her off the road, rape, rob and pillage her.
Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?
Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?
The fog had partially lilfted, which, was good and bad. By now, she could detect their faces (or, at least the masks that covered them) in the rear view mirror, and yes, following her... VERY CLOSELY again. In fact, they actually pulled up beside her, frantically signaling for her to roll down her window. No way Bessie would comply. No way. One more day, leave me the hell alone.
One more moondance with you
In the moonlight
On a magic night
La, la, la, la, la, in the moonlight
On a magic night
Can't I just have one more, more dance with you, my love?
The two would not give up in their quest to talk to Bessie.......... begrudgingly, she said a Hail Mary and slightly cracked her window. She just knew a bullet, maybe even a taser was upcoming. One eye on what road she could see... On eye on the masked, scary, men.
"YOUR LEFT TAILLIGHT IS OUT, AND, WE HOPE YOU AIN'T GOING FAR BECAUSE YOUR RIGHT REAR PASSENGER TIRE IS ALL BUT FLAT!"
Her heart pittered. Pattered. Her expression went from hearing Ave Maria at her funeral, to quick shock, then, a baby smile... a wave... and a muttered "Thank you!".
Whew. Or, was it a trick to get her to pull over? She made it the last ten blocks to work. Signs all about the parking lot "Good luck Bessie!". Well I'll be damned, the right rear tire WAS damn near flat. Nothing Hammer, the work do all, fix all, couldn't help her with.
Emotions ran the gamut. She finally punched (and caked), then, punched out that last time. Thanks for the air in my tire Hammer. "You're welcome, good luck Bessie."
Home. Quick sandwich. Candy from WallyWorld poured into a basket by the front door to pacify the snotnose goblin and vampires.. Elsa's, Spidermen, all. Each and every doorbell ring, she'd peek out the blind to make sure it wasn't the two dudes in the masks that follered her this morning.
9pam, no knocks for over an hour. She flipped the porchlight off, retired upstairs. Bessie was gonna make it. Take this job and shove it, I ain't driving there no more. Well, it's a marvelous night for a moondance.
Makeup, bra off. Face washed, alarm set.. oh, nevermind, don't need no stinking alarm. She plunged into bed, the gravity of the day made that easy.
Just as her eyeballs thought they'd seen the last of her last day of the working world... she was about to drift off into AARP land........ a pair of eyeballs in the darkened walkin closet peered at her. Was it the driver, and if so, where the hell is the other guy? She, only for a sec, closed her eyes to hurriedly reopen them, making sure her focus saw what it saw.
Crap. They did. Two eyes. Not four, two.
With I hope you don't see me pulling the blanket back, she pulled the blanket back. Grabbed her phone, got up, ran out, fortunately had her robe on the bedroom door handle........... dialed 911... she ran several houses away, detailing what was happening to the 911 dispatcher.
The small town had just hired, trained, a swat team. And this, was to be their first test. One by one, six cop cars pulled in and parked a block away from Bessie's. In spite of having plenty of shields, vests, guns, ammo, simultaneously the six gulped their initial fear out.
Bessie was nowhere near. The house was locked. A battering ram fixed that. Inside - they sped up the stairs, house still dark... bedroom door ajar... pushed it open... crawled, all six of em, inside. Yep, there were the eyeballs Bessie spoke of. They moved.
All hell broke loose. ONE, TWO, THREE shots rang out.
FOUR, FIVE, SIX! Awakened neigbors six blocks down the road.
Finally, SEVEN! Then EIGHT!
Utter silence.
Bessie lived a little over 15 years after that day. She was 99% lonely, no moondance, but she did make it to Cancun (one night fling with a landscape guy)... Turks and Caicos, a brief thing with the piano player at the hotel shortly after him serenading all for the all you can drink mimosa breakfast. Bessie was uncertain if it was his golden locks, his voice, or, the bottomless mimosas that rendered her bottomless that day.
She lived a good life in retirement. But too sad, lonely, ne;er wanted, stated desire for that moondance.
One HUGE reason, her kitty cat, Luna, she of 9 lives, never ever sat on her lap, nor jumped in her bed after that fateful October 31st night.
Love, Victurd