If Mrs. Pauley Hadn’t Been So Mean – Writing 101

If Mrs. Pauley Hadn’t Been So Mean

If Mrs. Pauley hadn’t been such a mean old bat to everybody, including me, since before time began, then I’m thinking somebody might help her. Nobody is.

“Ray Lynne get your butt in here.”

Just because I happened to have a handful of rocks when I bent down to pet her fuzz head dog, did not mean I was going to throw rocks at him, sheesh. She was jumping to wrongful conclusions, when she yelled at me.

“Ray Lynne.”

Everybody who is anybody is sitting out on their stoop too, just watching so I don’t feel bad. I wonder what she did to them. I’m surprised Grandma isn’t sitting right here beside me cheering on the Police. Throw her mean old butt outta here. Drag all of her crap out on the curb.

“Ray Lynne.”

Oh, here comes the ice cream man. Darn, I don’t think Grandma will give me another quarter for ice cream. Daniel and Mia are getting ice cream.

“Ray Lynne are you hard of hearing?”

I wonder where all of her sons are, she had a bunch of them. Why aren’t her sons helping her? I haven’t seen any of them in a long time. I don’t think they even came for their Dad’s funeral. She must have been mean to them too, run them all off.

“Ray Lynne, don’t make me come out there.”

Nobody here came to my mom’s funeral. It was just me and Grandma sitting there all alone at the funeral home. Everybody sat on their stoop watching the ambulance take her away.

“Ray Lynne!”

Mrs. Pauley brought over a casserole and some cornbread muffins… She was the only one.

“Grandma, I think you outta come out here. Mrs. Pauley is in trouble.”

-Pam Tanzey

Writing 101  Day Eighteen: Hone Your Point of View

The neighbourhood has seen better days, but Mrs. Pauley has lived there since before anyone can remember. She raised a family of six boys, who’ve all grown up and moved away. Since Mr. Pauley died three months ago, she’d had no income. She’s fallen behind in the rent. The landlord, accompanied by the police, have come to evict Mrs. Pauley from the house she’s lived in for forty years.

Today’s prompt: write this story in first person, told by the twelve-year-old sitting on the stoop across the street.