Today I played the part of a gossiping tour guide on our “Trash Tour” bus outing. We invited residents from my senior community to enjoy a tour of our town complete with pit stops for snacks (such as pork rinds, rag bologna and squeeze cheese, moon pies and grape sodas).
During our tour we would stop in front of each MacMansion and I would put on my trashiest Southern drawl to dish dirt on the fictitious person who lived there.
“Now on my little ol’ right, you’ll see the home of Big Daddy Graystone. He isn’t home right now though. A little ol’ burdie called me this mawnin’ and said they saw Big Daddy creepin’ in the backdoor of that TRASHY Nancy Miller. Y’all know her don’cha, Hon? The owner of the Germantown Bakery? Rumor has it that there is more than buns in her oven!!!”
Oh how they would squeal! After all, polite society ladies never speak of such things!
We went through the gamut of stories; there was the 2nd floor balcony of Freddy the Flasher, the tall spindly Victorian of old lady Boone with her 29 cats, the countryside compound of a real live hit-man, and the modern Californian+
type estate of Maylene Porter, who has more visits from the May Tag repairman than Sear & Roebucks! The stories got better as the tour went along.
When the tour finally ended, we collected the remains of some mighty delicious delicacies, and gave everyone a hug promising to do this tour again soon. As I bent down in my seat to collect my purse, I overheard one of the passengers say to the other…” Who was that woman and how does she know EVERYBODY in town?”
The smartly styled gray headed tourist leaned over to whisper in her companion’s ear…
“Rumor has it…”