Miss Violet May from the Twelve Thousand Lakes
by Tina Connolly
All us fellas loved Miss Violet May, right from the start. She came from the land of Twelve Thousand Lakes, came click-clacking on the train from North to South till she met worthless Sorry Joe Weevily, and he sweet-talked her into getting off and marrying him.
We'd never seen a girl from that far north before. Course, them northern girls ...sometimes you don't see them at all, ain't that what they say? Leastways that's what I always heard. That them Twelve Thousand Lakes was fulla nothing but ghosts, spirits drifting around from one fingerling lake to the next.
But not our Miss Violet May. She was corn-fed and milk-plump and her eyes twinkled like little pats of butter, set just so. She was promised to Sorry Joe, or she wouldn't a gotten off that train. But that didn't stop us fellers from falling over ourselves, handing out sweets like we were made of chocolate, watching those little butter pat eyes smile kindly, seeing those dimpled elbows wave us on with a friendly bent to them.
If I'd known the truth about the girls from the north, I woulda looked long and hard at those dimpled elbows, cause they were the first things to go.