The ding-dong of the doorbell sounded loud in the silent, dim house.
Ginger and her owner opened the door, met no one but a wicker hamper with goodies; a bottle of red, a thick slab of ham, some fruitcake, pecan pie and a card that simply said ‘thank you.’
Ms. Penelope always thought highly of herself and felt gratified that someone had finally come to their good sense to appreciate her neighbourly attitude. She forgot that five minutes ago she sat in the dark in her house stewing over the din coming from the neighbours who were obviously having a swell party without inviting her. She had been contemplating calling the police before the bell rang.
She forgot that she was the neighbourhood’s reliable gossip, all seeing eye busy-body who had observed the licentious shenanigans going on in the home of the Stottgard’s now ex’s.
A generous portion of red poured into her chipped mug and a good helping of pie, she wondered again what the O’hilley’s were up to with the plumber visiting Mrs O’hilley ever so often. That’s a riddle that no one has an answer to, because, since the night of the party, Ms Penelope hasn’t been seen puttering around other people’s business, but her poor Tabby has been heard crying late into the nights.
© Jacqueline Oby-Ikocha
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