Second prize winner of the 4th Annual Geist Literal Literary Postcard Story Contest.
Cornell hates alcohol of all descriptions. “I almost died of the drink,” he says. In fact, he brings it up far too often, if you ask me. A thing like that need be mentioned only occasionally, if at all. Cornell goes to the AA. I see no call for that sort of thing myself. I find it showy.
Although I do enjoy the floral arrangement classes I’ve been attending in the basement of the Holy Rosary. The AA meets next door at the same time. Sometimes we can hear them laughing. You’d think floral arrangement would be a whole lot funnier than drinking yourself half to death, but we hardly laugh at all. And we definitely don’t cry, although Minette’s eyes did tear up that time she nipped her pinkie finger with the secateurs and bled all over the baby’s breath. Cornell says they do a lot of crying over at AA.
Maybe people would be more careful with their drink if they knew it could lead to all that laughing and crying.
Next week’s class is about ferns and other green bits. Creating Lush Arrangements, it’s called. That really cracked Cornell up. “I already studied that,” he said. He’s picking me up at half past six, as usual.