The Daily Grind

I will pen  the finest stories!” Said Judy to Punch.

“Me ladies' voices husky, the rustles on their hems sweet tunes to ears.

Me gentlemen walk and talk risky. Them smooth tongues lispy.”

“You will do n'wath, me lady Judy. Now sweep the floor and bathe the babe.

The children are waiting for the curtains to draw. We need bread and water to live on.”

A wry smile appeared on the weathered face of Punch.

“I will pen down the finest stories for real folks”. Insisted Judy, “ I need to feather my quill and to grind gunpowder into paper first.”

“You will do n'wath of the sort, me lady. For paper ain't made of gunpowder but trees

Anyhoo, you daft woman.”

“Me hearts won't permit to kill them innocent trees. I devised a fine method to grind gunpowder into paper. No need to use gunpowder to murth the innocent folks anyhoo!” Said Judy.

“I always knew you are a sandwich short of picnic; now you only gone and lost your marbles!”

Punch sighed- a deep sigh, “of course, our great nation needs gunpowder to keep them heathens at bay. The enemies lurking in the grass; the Francos. the Germans, the Belgiums; the lot! All them weasels want to eradicate our great nation. Wipe us off the map of the mother earth. It is bleeding hearts liberals like you- womenfolk are going to send off our grand nation to her  early grave.”

“The gunpowder is a grave matter indeed, used on innocent folks.”  Judy retorted back, waving her wooden arms around, loosening them from the strings attached to them,

“I kid you not I devised a method to turn this evil's spat into a fine use. I will make silky writes from the gunpowder and that is that!” Judy stamped her feet.

The loud stamping woke the baby up and sent her crying a loud cry in her crib.

“Go and see to that babe crying in her crib!” Yelled Punch, spitting green phlegm. The doctor said he should cut down on cigarettes but he was still on his regular forty a day. The wheeze on his chest had now advanced to cancer of lungs in the last few months. There was no cure of his chest. So he smoked and smoked to sooth his damned spirit.

“I won't do n'wath of the sort. You made me stamp mine feet loud!” Judy yelled back. Her thin mouth was smudged scarlet with poor quality of rouge (reserves of the poor and peasant folks only)! “You go and see to the babe. I have business to attend. I need to be getting on with me grinding. The daily grind won't await the time.”

“But but attending your chores like an obedient good wife that you were once, was your daily grind. Not turning gunpowder into silly tales!” Punch was despondent.

“Me daily grind have changed now; first I grind gunpowder into fine tales then attend me chores. You b'tter get used to this! This new order! Or else you ain't no husband of mine. No more.”

“If you are gonna grind gunpowder into tales. You better make them each grain into gold befitting of the lords, the ladies, the queens and the kings. For in a few months time, my lungs will expire. I will be gone; dead as a parrot.!” Punch paused, breathing rapidly through his nose, “a woman of your class needs to turn gunpowder into finest grains of gold if she wants to make a honest living out of gunpowder.  Dishonest living you can't make any more for your flesh is fresh, no more!”

With that he left the room to tend the baby crying in her crib.

Punch’s punch posed a real dilemma for Judy for she was a novice of telling tales befitting the Kings and the Queens. Though, she related many tales for common folks time and time again with her man on her side writing the tales.

Judy vowed ( after a minute or so considering her husband’s words) that she would sweat blood to turn gunpowder into the finest grains of gold to feed her family and equally to raise to fame for she was sick to stomach of wearing cheap rouge for her shows.

With her first some of money (a handsome some), she bought a silk robe from the finest tailor in town and the best rouge from the most expensive Parisian cosmetic shop soon after purchasing the creamiest goat milk for her babe still in the crib. Punch was no longer with her to see the harvest of her good works!