3:00 p.m.
Sketch: At the Window
Mrs. Williams is pulling weeds in her garden, but she ought to know better than to wear those shorts if she's going to be bending over like that. Mr. Williams left her, and that's probably why. Some women have no shame. My daughter says not to pay her any attention if it bothers me so much, but it's hard to miss that big behind up in the air every time I look out of the window. Mr. Williams still comes over to do things like mow the lawn and clean out the eavestroughs, although I don't know why he bothers. If any of my boys were married to a woman like Mrs. Williams, I'd be happy when he left her forever and didn't look back, but it ain't none of my business and nobody asks me nohow.
There's a woman who walks by every day carrying a plastic bag. I always wonder what she's carrying, if it's the same thing or different things each time she goes by. Maybe it's the same bag full of stuff. Maybe it's something she's afraid'll get stolen if she doesn't carry it with her all the time, or maybe she picks up garbage off the street, but I don't ever see her picking nothing up, just walking by real slow like her body aches her, carrying that bag. She wears sunglasses every day, I ain't never seen her without them, now that I think about it, and I don't know why she does that, because she's always walking by at dark. But I bet she's got trouble with her eyes. Because them's the kinda glasses people wear when they got trouble with their eyes.
She's pretty old, but not as old as me. I don't know nobody as old as me, and that's the trouble with being this age. My kids all tell me I'm lucky, but they don't know nothin' about it. Let them live to be this old, and then see how lucky they feel. 'Specially if they don't got nothin' much other to do than look out the window, and the only view they get is of Mrs. Williams in her shorts with her big white legs out there for anybody to see, like it's anything anybody'd wanna see anyway, and that's probably why Mr. Williams left her in the first place.
But it ain't none of my business and I don't care much anyhow.
Note: Yes, that's my grandmother in the picture, and yes, she does stare out of her kitchen window a lot, but the character in this story is not actually my grandmother. For the record.
Mrs. Williams is pulling weeds in her garden, but she ought to know better than to wear those shorts if she's going to be bending over like that. Mr. Williams left her, and that's probably why. Some women have no shame. My daughter says not to pay her any attention if it bothers me so much, but it's hard to miss that big behind up in the air every time I look out of the window. Mr. Williams still comes over to do things like mow the lawn and clean out the eavestroughs, although I don't know why he bothers. If any of my boys were married to a woman like Mrs. Williams, I'd be happy when he left her forever and didn't look back, but it ain't none of my business and nobody asks me nohow.
There's a woman who walks by every day carrying a plastic bag. I always wonder what she's carrying, if it's the same thing or different things each time she goes by. Maybe it's the same bag full of stuff. Maybe it's something she's afraid'll get stolen if she doesn't carry it with her all the time, or maybe she picks up garbage off the street, but I don't ever see her picking nothing up, just walking by real slow like her body aches her, carrying that bag. She wears sunglasses every day, I ain't never seen her without them, now that I think about it, and I don't know why she does that, because she's always walking by at dark. But I bet she's got trouble with her eyes. Because them's the kinda glasses people wear when they got trouble with their eyes.
She's pretty old, but not as old as me. I don't know nobody as old as me, and that's the trouble with being this age. My kids all tell me I'm lucky, but they don't know nothin' about it. Let them live to be this old, and then see how lucky they feel. 'Specially if they don't got nothin' much other to do than look out the window, and the only view they get is of Mrs. Williams in her shorts with her big white legs out there for anybody to see, like it's anything anybody'd wanna see anyway, and that's probably why Mr. Williams left her in the first place.
But it ain't none of my business and I don't care much anyhow.
Note: Yes, that's my grandmother in the picture, and yes, she does stare out of her kitchen window a lot, but the character in this story is not actually my grandmother. For the record.
