"I told you that salmonella was a long shot!" Tyler raged at his mother. "We have to be a little more aggressive if we're going to get rid of that idiot."
"Tyler, I don't know how we can do that." Mavis pushed a hand over her freshly dyed hair. She so enjoyed having Mr. Mario do her hair, especially when he wore those tight black pants. Mr. Mario was a dead ringer for Warren Beatty in Shampoo and Mavis was getting definite vibes that he wanted her to be his next Julie Christie. "I don't want to go to jail, you know. Orange is not my color."
"Then if we aren't going to murder him, we'll have to get him fired from his job," Tyler said flatly. "It's our only option."
Mavis frowned. "I still don't see how getting Peter fired will also get him out of our house. If anything he'll have more time to laze around here, sucking up my liquor and doing nothing but watch Tru t.v. How he can watch Cops all day long is beyond me."
"If he gets fired, you'll have to tell him that you don't feel you can have a boyfriend who's unemployed," Tyler slowly explained. "Tell him that it would look bad at the club."
"Suppose we get him fired and he finds another job right away? That excuse won't wash then."
Tyler snapped his fingers. "Mother, you're a genius! That's what we'll do--we'll pay off his boss and get him transferred to somewhere else in the state--some place far away."
"Do you think we could do that? Wouldn't it be awfully hard to pay off the police department?"
"I'm sure we can find someone willing to help us," Tyler said confidently. "After all, money makes the world go round and we have enough to make the whole world spin."
"What are you two talking about?" Peter asked, strolling into the den with a copy of Guns and Ammo tucked under one arm. "My ears are burning."
"As well they should be," Tyler remarked on his way out of the room.
"We were just discussing Mr. Mario. Tyler was complimenting me on the way my hair looks today. I think Mario did an exceptional job, don't you?"
Peter glanced at Mavis before dropping into Ron's leather recliner. "Looks good. No more grey, I see." He snapped open his magazine. "By the way, I won't be home for dinner tonight."
Mavis cringed at how casually Peter referred to Schuyler Manor as "home." Really, if only she could go back in time before she ever let this lummox move in, no matter how good he looked in his uniform. "Oh? Where will you be?"
"I need to see Chelsea about something."
Mavis felt her hopes perk up. "What do you need to see her about?" Maybe they were on the verge of reconciling and then she wouldn't have to continue to listen to Tyler's silly plots or try to come up with any on her own. One thing the Schuyler family did not shine on was getting rid of people. They usually hired other people to do any and all dirty work for them.
Peter looked upset. "Just something Chelsea and I need to finish, Mavis. Nothing to worry about. How about if we meet at the club later for a nightcap?"
"I don't think so." Mario had mentioned something about an open house at the spa. Maybe she'd pop in there and see what he was offering. "Have fun with Chelsea."
"Somehow I don't think fun is on the agenda for tonight," Peter said somewhat peevishly.
Showing posts with label food poisoning. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food poisoning. Show all posts
Monday, June 25, 2012
Wednesday, June 20, 2012
Schuyler Square Day 79 Rosanne Wonders What's Up
Rosanne Olson stood in the shade of Fred's Fruit truck at the Schuyler Square Farmer's Market and studied the list Mavis had given her. It didn't make sense. In the first place, Mavis rarely ate fruit, preferring distilled grains to anything fresh. In the second place, Mavis had instructed her to purchase all of the items from Fred Uster. No one bought anything from Fred Uster, especially not after the last summer when almost all of the fruits and vegetables that Fred had sold wound up being tainted with salmonella. Rosanne couldn't believe Fred was still able to set up a stand. Money must have changed hands somewhere along the line for that to have happened.
"That's quite a list you have," someone chirped at Rosanne's shoulder.
Rosanne looked up and saw a petite woman in her 50s standing next to her. "Yes, it is," she agreed.
"I'm DeeDee Robertson," the woman said, sticking out her hand for Rosanne to shake. "My husband Steve and I just moved to Schuyler Square. Who do you recommend to buy produce from?"
"Well, I usually buy from the Henderson's booth. They grow organically and I've always had good luck with them."
DeeDee pointed at Rosanne's list where Mavis had written BUY ONLY FROM FRED USTER TODAY! "So why are you buying from Fred Uster then? Is he having a sale?"
"I don't think so. The woman I work for wants produce from Fred today for some reason."
"Maybe I should buy from Fred today too," DeeDee said. "I want to make pasta tonight with fresh tomato sauce and I'd also like to get some melons."
"No!" Rosanne urged. "Don't buy from Fred. I think you'll be a lot happier with anything you get from the Henderson's." Taking DeeDee by the arm, she led her over to the Henderson's booth and introduced her to Jeanne and Larry Henderson.
"Aren't you getting anything today?" Jeanne asked Rosanne.
Oh, what the heck. It wasn't like Mavis Schuyler would know where she bought the family produce. Besides, there was no way that Rosanne was going to talk to Fred Uster. The man was seriously strange and had body odor that overpowered every other scent at the farmer's market. "Yes," she said. "I'd like half a dozen musk melons, some fresh spinach and a quart of strawberries."
Larry Henderson laughed. "That's funny. Those are exactly the items that Fred Uster had such trouble with last summer--remember? A lot of people got real sick around here."
DeeDee looked at Rosanne a little suspiciously but didn't say a word. Rosanne didn't blame her. She would have looked at her suspiciously too. As she paid for her purchases, Rosanne wondered what Mavis was up to. Surely she wasn't trying to make the entire household sick, was she? Then again, knowing Mavis Schuyler and her mixed-up way of thinking, anything was possible...
"That's quite a list you have," someone chirped at Rosanne's shoulder.
Rosanne looked up and saw a petite woman in her 50s standing next to her. "Yes, it is," she agreed.
"I'm DeeDee Robertson," the woman said, sticking out her hand for Rosanne to shake. "My husband Steve and I just moved to Schuyler Square. Who do you recommend to buy produce from?"
"Well, I usually buy from the Henderson's booth. They grow organically and I've always had good luck with them."
DeeDee pointed at Rosanne's list where Mavis had written BUY ONLY FROM FRED USTER TODAY! "So why are you buying from Fred Uster then? Is he having a sale?"
"I don't think so. The woman I work for wants produce from Fred today for some reason."
"Maybe I should buy from Fred today too," DeeDee said. "I want to make pasta tonight with fresh tomato sauce and I'd also like to get some melons."
"No!" Rosanne urged. "Don't buy from Fred. I think you'll be a lot happier with anything you get from the Henderson's." Taking DeeDee by the arm, she led her over to the Henderson's booth and introduced her to Jeanne and Larry Henderson.
"Aren't you getting anything today?" Jeanne asked Rosanne.
Oh, what the heck. It wasn't like Mavis Schuyler would know where she bought the family produce. Besides, there was no way that Rosanne was going to talk to Fred Uster. The man was seriously strange and had body odor that overpowered every other scent at the farmer's market. "Yes," she said. "I'd like half a dozen musk melons, some fresh spinach and a quart of strawberries."
Larry Henderson laughed. "That's funny. Those are exactly the items that Fred Uster had such trouble with last summer--remember? A lot of people got real sick around here."
DeeDee looked at Rosanne a little suspiciously but didn't say a word. Rosanne didn't blame her. She would have looked at her suspiciously too. As she paid for her purchases, Rosanne wondered what Mavis was up to. Surely she wasn't trying to make the entire household sick, was she? Then again, knowing Mavis Schuyler and her mixed-up way of thinking, anything was possible...
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