From: bobandcarole@aol.com   
      
   Story: THE MISS DAISY CHRONICLES 3 of 5 MAKING MISS DAISY   
      
   by bobandcarole   
      
       "I don't know what your destiny will be, but one thing I know: the only   
   ones among you who will be really happy are those who have sought and found   
   how to serve." Albert Schweitzer   
      
       CHAPTER THREE: COMING CLEAN (Caution, Human Cattle, no sex, plot   
   development)   
      
       THE HENHOUSE WAS A SMALL, rectangular building, its weathered grey walls   
   flaking leprously.  A set of three uneven steps lead up to a battered   
   screen door sagging on its hinges.  The inside was gloomy and damp, sealed   
   windows on the north side letting in very little light and almost no air,   
   except for what leaked around their rotting jambs.  The floor was a mixture   
   of corncobs and chicken manure.  Two round feed pans flanked either side of   
   a long but shallow zinc watering trough.   
      
       The short wall directly across from the door looked like an avian jungle   
   gym, studded as it was with wooden slats for the chickens to perch on.  The   
   last wall was a collection of setting boxes, essentially cut down crates   
   with a handful of straw lining the bottom for the birds to nest in.   
   Chickens occupied some of the crates, some were empty and a couple had a   
   forlorn glass egg in them, a reminder to the chickens of why they were   
   there.  Although the meat of the chickens was poison their eggs were one of   
   the few natural animal products that could safely be eaten after the Great   
   Disaster.   
      
       Humming to himself, Morgan put down the toolbox he was carrying and   
   began to stuff batting into gaps around the window frames.  That morning he   
   had told Flo, he was going to do some repairs in the henhouse, repairs that   
   did need to be done but which would also give him an excuse to be there   
   when Tansy collected the eggs.   
      
       After all he reminded Flo, aside from his income they had little in the   
   way of cash coming into the farm.  Tansy was a growing girl, one who cost a   
   lot to feed and clothe.  Maybe if the henhouse got fixed up the chickens   
   would be better layers.  A tight as things were around the house, it   
   couldn't hurt to have a little more egg money rolling in.   
      
       He had just finished resealing the first window when the screen door   
   creaked, announcing Tansy's arrival.  After exchanging pleasantries, Tansy   
   began removing the eggs from under the hens, a task the chickens didn't   
   appreciate and seemed to resent.   
      
       Each day their resentment took the form of pecking at Tansy's hand as   
   she slid it between the hens and the straw.  Most of the time Tansy moved   
   fast enough that the peck didn't hurt.  Besides, the pointed beaks of most   
   of the chickens had been clipped, a standard precaution to prevent one   
   chicken pecking another to death.   
      
       Most of the chickens but not all.  Tired from her nocturnal masturbatory   
   exertions, Tansy was operating on autopilot when one of the unclipped   
   chickens scored a direct hit on the web of flesh between her thumb and   
   forefinger, causing Tansy to yelp and drawing a small bit of blood in the   
   process.   
      
       Acting concerned, Morgan made the young girl sit down.  After clucking   
   over the wound, in reality just a small scratch, Morgan told his niece he   
   was worried about her.   
      
       "Honey, I know you're still having a tough time.  That's only natural.   
   But you're not yourself lately.  Are you feeling sick because you looked   
   pretty funny at the dairy, I thought you were going to keel over toward the   
   end.  And then last night when I got up to go to the bathroom, you were   
   making moaning noises in your room like you were having a nightmare.  You   
   were quiet when I got out of the bathroom, so I figured you were sleeping   
   OK but still."   
      
       Embarrassment as strong as last night's orgasm surged through Tansy.   
   Uncle Morgan heard me last night but how much did he hear?  Does he know I   
   was playing with myself?  Oh, I hope not.   
      
       "I'm fine Uncle Morgan.  It was really hot in the milking parlour and I   
   did feel a little funny.  I probably shouldn't have had that second ice   
   cream cone at the dairy either; it upset my tummy something terrible.  I   
   did have a stomachache last night until I massaged it out.  That's probably   
   what you heard.' She looked away, finding herself unable to look Morgan in   
   the eye.   
      
       "Tansy, you know you can talk to me about anything don't you?  And I do   
   mean anything.  I don't blush easily," he responded, taking her hand in   
   his. "Mrs.  Patel had a little talk with me at Paladin's.  She's concerned   
   about you too.  Your grades have been dropping; your teachers say you're   
   having trouble paying attention in class, that you spend a lot of time   
   daydreaming.  If you're having a problem, I want to help you.  You can   
   confide in me and your mother doesn't have to know a thing.  It'll just be   
   between us.  I want to do what's best for you sweetheart.  Tell your Uncle   
   Morgan about it."   
      
       Again, the young girl denied there was any problem, although not as   
   strongly as the first time.   
      
       "Well, I didn't want to have to do this Tansy.  I had hoped you'd open   
   up and be honest with me." Releasing her hand Morgan walked over to the   
   covered feed bin.  Kneeling down, he reached behind the wooden box and   
   hauled out a well-worn manila envelope.  Dropping the envelope in Tansy's   
   lap he asked "Are you sure there's nothing you want to tell me?"   
      
       For a moment Tansy sat as still and quiet as prey would under the gaze   
   of a predator, hoping immobility would render them invisible.  Then, in an   
   unconscious imitation of Morgan's mannerisms she began to turn the envelope   
   end over end, her eyes filling up with tears.   
      
       "I know what's in the envelope Tansy," his soft voice announced.   
   "You're not the first girl to be curious about becoming a convert and you   
   won't be the last.  Believe me I've seen hundreds of 'em.  Hell kid, you   
   wouldn't be normal if you didn't wonder about it; what it would be like to   
   leave all your troubles behind, no more worrying about your Mom and how   
   hard she's working to keep food in your belly, clothes on your back and a   
   roof over your head.   
      
       "It's an attractive idea.  No more studying for tests, worrying if the   
   boys are laughing at you after you walk by, making milking motions behind   
   your back.  No fretting about what you'll do after graduation, what kind of   
   a job you could find, what you could and couldn't afford to buy.   
      
       "Living a pampered life, every need you have fulfilled, no more   
   decisions to make, no more problems to solve.  Cares and woes gone forever.   
   Just warm contentment with your role in life and the knowledge deep down   
   inside of you that you've done something good and noble for society, that   
   you're helping others in a way far greater than you could have otherwise   
   done."   
      
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)