Margie, the Gossip Girl WC 294

Margie, the Gossip Girl

“I’ve never told anybody this,” my sister said, as she leaned in.

“Pish, posh!” I almost said, but I caught myself. “Really?”

My sister is a gossip. I was sure she had already shared her tidbit with all of her friends, as well as Bob the Butcher.

“What’s that supposed to mean, Evelyn?”

I usually go along to get along. However, something is changing in me as I mature. I’m learning to protect my sanity by speaking my mind.

“Look Margie, you’re my kid sister--"

"We're in our sixties--"

"-- and I love you to pieces, but you’re a gossip. You’ve probably already told Bob the Butcher!”

I looked across the table at her; her eyes were bugged out and her neck veins bulged. I couldn’t tell if she was angry or bursting at the seams to spew the gossip.

“Cross my heart! I have not told a soul!” Agitated. she wiggled from side to side in the wobbly chair. “And, anyway, why in the world would I share anything with that odious man in his bloody apron."

“I’m not sure that chair will hold you, Margie. Settle down!”

Coffee Haven is known for its great coffee, yes, but also its flimsy plastic chairs. Margie is hauling around quite a few extra pounds, as am I (well, a few anyway), but I was sitting still.

And that’s when the chair gave way. Margie crashed to the checker-board linoleum, skirt flying up exposing her pink underpants.

The manager handed us free coffee certificates on our way out.

Gossip Girl was silent all the way home.