Delilah was in a woeful state, plagued by many troubling issues. She had recently lost her job due to a misunderstanding about the proper time for alcohol consumption. She had lost her favorite boyfriend because she didn’t realize that she was only supposed to have one. And most urgently, she must have lost her bloomers at some point because sitting on this thorny bush was proving to be exceedingly uncomfortable…

Man passing by on the street, wearing a white t-shirt: “Hey there, Delilah.”

Delilah: “….”

Man: “You seem a little blue. Can I sing you a song that might perk you up a bit?”

Delilah: “Not if you want to keep living.”

Man: “Oh. That doesn’t seem very neighborly. Say, maybe you need a little churchin’. I was just on my way to Beaver Valley Second Baptist. Care to join me?”

Delilah: “I can’t go back in that church. Last time I did my dress caught on fire.”

Man: “Maybe that was the spirit of Jesus!”

Delilah: “No, it was the spirit of the butane torch I forgot was in my purse. I burned up three pews and had to throw myself in that big ole bathtub where they do the baptisms. Pastor Hank told me the Lord was callin’ me to another congregation and I’d best go find that one.

Man: “Well, now. That explains what happened to those pews. And why they got crime scene tape around that bathtub. I try not to question scripture, but I did wonder. Still, what’s done is done. Say, maybe we could just skip the churchin’ and go get somethin’ to eat at Ethel’s Diner. I hear she got a big ole batch of catfish in yesterday, and you know she can fry that mess but good.”

Delilah: “Hmm. I am a little bit hungry, since I been sittin’ here for three days waitin’ for somebody to notice my Instagram post with the sad-face Imogenes.”

Man: “Then come on, girl. Let’s go fill our pie holes.”

Delilah started to rise, then quickly plunked back down. “Oh my.”

Man: “Change your mind already, did ya? I hear that’s a woman thing.”

Delilah: “No, it’s just that… this bush is stuck to my… woman thing.”

Man: “I’m not followin’ ya, girl.”

Delilah: “I done got thorns in my nethers, Eustace.”

Man, apparently named Eustace, poor thing: “Huh. Well, I gotta tell ya right now that I don’t know what to do about that.”

Delilah: “Then go find somebody who can. Run see if Doc Clodhopper is done with his mornin’ hangover.”

Eustace: “No, he ain’t. You don’t want that man doin’ any kind of doctorin’ before mid-afternoon. Trust me. I ain’t walked right since his last house call.”

Suddenly, a second man walked up: “Hey, Eustace. I hear on the Twitter that somethin’ is trendin’ right here on this street corner. So I hurried right over ‘cause I ain’t got nothin’ else to do since my wife left me for another woman.”

Eustace: “Hey, Stumpy. Sorry to hear about you and Ethel. But she still does her fish fries, right? ‘Cause that’s a hankerin’ I can’t deny. No offense.”

Second Man, apparently named Stumpy, which may or may not have anything to do with Ethel’s unexpected Rainbow Revelation: “No, no, don’t worry ‘bout that. Ain’t nothin’ better than the smell of fried catfish in the mornin’.”

Delilah: “Excuse me!”

Stumpy: “Hey, Delilah. Why you sittin’ on that bush?”

Eustace: “She done got her gidget caught on that gadget.”

Stumpy: “Why she wanna do that?”

Delilah: “I didn’t do it on purpose, Stumpy. I was just really sad and I sat in the wrong place. It happens. So could we stop talkin’ about fish fries and start talkin’ about getting’ my cooter off this contraption?”

Stumpy: “Honey, that’s a lot to process, and I’m still dealin’ with Ether not wantin’ my own contraption anymore.”

Eustace: “Wait a minute, Stumpy. Ain’t you a plumber?”

Stumpy: “When it comes to pipes, yeah. Women? Apparently not.”

Delilah: “I am not a septic tank that needs to be blown out. Is there a man left in this town that can understand a woman’s delicate needs?”

Suddenly, a third man walked up: “Hi, I’m Orson Welles. I used to direct really good movies until I didn’t anymore and then I sold wine on TV commercials. I’m here as a completely irrelevant character brought in at the last minute by the writer to provide an extremely-contrived resolution.”

Eustace: “Are you speaking English?”

Stumpy: “I always fall asleep at movies and I feel like doin’ that right now.”

Delilah: “….”

Orson: “I know the exact bit of dialogue that will end this meandering tale.” He paused dramatically, because he didn’t know any other way, and then: “Rosebud.”

Stumpy, whipping his head around to look at Orson: “Holy cow! That’s what my wife used to call me in her diary that I accidentally read every day. Only now I realize that she was talkin’ about Ethel and not me. I should have known all along.”

Eustace, equally whipping: “And that’s what Pastor Clodhopper used to call me when he would ask me to stay after choir practice. I always wondered why he wasn’t wearin’ any pants in his office.”

Delilah, leaping to her feet: “And that’s what I used to call my junction before none of my boyfriends wanted to visit my station anymore.” She glanced down, noting that she was no longer tethered to the thorns. “And I’m free. Free at last!”

Eustace: “Glory be!”

Stumpy: “I’m just glad it was you and not me. If it had been my double-mint twins, I think my ass would still be on the ground.”

Orson: “This calls for a celebration. Let’s head on over to Ethel’s and get some of that good ole catfish. Wait, is that okay with you, Stumpy?”

Stumpy: “Oh, we’re good. She might do the fish but I still make the tartar sauce.”

They all exited, stage left.

Brian paused before hitting “publish”, knowing full well that transgressions were rife in this ribaldry. Then he hit the button anyway, because life is too short to worry about what anyone might scribble in their diary…

Previously published in “Crusty Pie” and “Bonnywood Manor”. Considerably modified and extended for this post, as the original was only the first paragraph. And it probably should have remained that way. Kudos to those who noticed the rampant overabundance of arcane trivia…