Read A Time for Poncey — And other Stories out of Skullbone Page 3

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  Poncey stared at the pew in front of him there in First Church. He more or less heard Rev. Fletcher droning on, “… and the rain descended, and the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house; and it fell: and great was the fall of it. …” Poncey had not been out to Maizeland for several days – he didn’t have the heart. “…Wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it goeth. …” The pastor’s voice morphed into Mavis’, trilling like a bird in the choir. She easily beat Poncey out of the building as he shuffled down the aisle and into the street.

  The bell jingled as he opened the Diner door. Mavis appeared through her veil of smoke. “Hey!” she grumped. “You put a hole in my barn roof! Get out there an’ at least put a tarp or sump’m over it!”

  Poncey didn’t respond, but simply sat upon his stool.

  “What you been doin’ with yourself, sugarpie? Ain’t seen you ’round here for a spell.”

  Poncey just sighed and shook his head.

  “What’s eatin’ at you now, hon’? You look like you lost your best friend.”

  Finally Poncey replied, “I’m just tired of it – tired of how the world always just blows me off.”

  Mavis opened the dessert case. “Well, the world carries its share of scars.” She pulled out a plate and set it before Poncey. “It can sure be a hard place. But where else you gonna go? An’ besides, a piece a’ pie makes a world a’ diff’rence, right sugar doodle?”