Tamar Myers - Batter off Dead

“For Pete’s sake,” he hissed, “keep your voice down.”

“All right. And there’s no need to get your jockeys in a jumble if you cooperate.”

“Do I even have a choice?”

“No.”

The bell rang. As the other staff members filed out, you can be sure that every single one of them was staring at us. Several of them even collided with one another, which, in my opinion, served them right. I know, that’s not the way a good Christian should be thinking, but I resolved to pray about my attitude just as soon as I had a moment to myself.

“Okay,” Merle mumbled when the door finally closed, “but do you mind if we sit down first?”

“Not at all, dear.”

Alas, I’d spoken too soon. Much to my surprise, I discovered that some teachers can be incredibly messy. Someone had been eating a pastry coated in powdered sugar, and that someone had apparently dropped said pastry on my chair. I only noticed this when I was adjusting my skirt, after I’d been seated. However, I doubt that this was the same clumsy person who had wiped peanut butter on the armrest; again a fact that I discovered after it had been transferred to my dress sleeves. I sighed dramatically as a way to let out steam.

“Hey, don’t blame that on me too, Magdalena. I always eat over there at the table.”

“I was merely emoting, dear-as is my wont under the circumstances. Now, just so we’re clear: I expect your full cooperation in this investigation.”

“By what authority do you act, Magdalena? Your Honor the mayor? Pretend policewoman? Head deaconess of Beechy Grove Mennonite Church? Richest woman in Hernia?”

“Why, you impudent little-well, man. See what you almost made me do? I don’t normally call people names, you know.”

“Mmm, but you do try to intimidate them; you can’t deny that.”

“When the shoe fits, dear, I wear it. And yes, this sensible black brogan with the eighteen-inch lace fits very well. That said, Chief Chris Ackerman, of the Hernia Police Department, has asked me to investigate this case on his behalf.”

“Is that even legal?”

“Well, it certainly isn’t illegal for me to ask questions. You are, of course, free to refuse to answer. Be fairly warned, however, that by doing so, you will cast further suspicion on yourself.”

“You’re basically saying that I have no choice but to submit to your grilling.”

“Like a weenie on a green willow branch.”

“That would be roasting.”

“Not the way I do it. Now, spill; I want to know all about your run-ins with our town’s least-liked personality.”

“Mmm, well, I’d have to say that up until this morning, you and I have managed to avoid any direct confrontations.”

“Very funny. Now, be a dear and hurry-wait just one Mennonite minute! You weren’t kidding, were you?”

“Face it, Magdalena, if it wasn’t for that pile of money you’ve made from fleecing tourists at your inn, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“I don’t fleece these folks! These are very wealthy people who expect to pay through the nose for poor service and a good helping of attitude. After all, almost all of them enjoy traveling in Europe, and a good percentage of them adore Paris. And if you’re insinuating that the ALPO-Amish Lifestyle Plan Option-that I offer these sophisticated travelers has somehow affected my interpersonal relationships, you’re dead wrong. I have oodles of friends and a handsome husband to prove it.”

“Mmm, whatever.”

“You’re trying to get my goat, aren’t you? It’s a ploy to distract me. Well, I have news for you. It’s not going to work.”

He jumped to his feet, and as he did so, his trademark smirk returned to his round, doughy face. “I’ve changed my mind; I won’t be cooperating after all.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You might intimidate the others who volunteered to make pancakes that morning, but I’m not going to let you do that to me. So take your twenty questions, Magdalena, and put them-”

“How rude! I demand that you sit back down right now.”

He started to walk away but stopped when he was halfway to the door. “Mmm, and one more thing-”

“If you’re going to apologize, dear, then come back and do it right.”

“Ha, you really are a comedienne. The next time you speak to me, it better be with a court order. Is that clear?”

I jumped to my size elevens, and had I been a Methodist or a Baptist, I might even have tackled Merle Waggler. But I was a mere Mennonite, a pacifist by breeding and disposition. When words failed me, I was as helpless as an Easter chick in the hands of a two-year-old. Still, even though he refused to cooperate with the interrogation, he couldn’t very well ignore a mother ’s plea to put an end to the anti-Semitic taunts hurled at her child.

“You can ignore me, but you can’t ignore the bullying that goes on in this school!”

I’m sure that Merle Waggler broke several laws of physics by turning on a dime. “What did you say?”

“Other children have been calling her ‘Jew girl.’ ”

“Isn’t she? I never see her in church with you.”

“No, she isn’t Jewish. Her adoptive father-well, soon to be, at any rate-is, but not her.”

“ Magdalena, what you’ve described is not bullying. Bullying is being called ‘Pillsbury doughboy’ and having your head stuck in the toilet while the other boys take turns flushing it. Bullying is being the last one chosen in gym, every single time, and being called ‘girlie’ because you have some breast development. And when we played dodgeball-we don’t have mixed gym classes in Hernia, as you well know-all the boys ganged up on me, even my supposed friends. And where was the teacher? Standing right there with a wicked old grin on his face.”

“And where are you when Alison gets teased?”

“Look, Magdalena, it’s hardly the same. Those people have brought it on themselves.”

“I can’t believe I’m hearing this, and from a member of my church.”

“Well, it’s true. They’re the ones who rejected Jesus, not us.”

“For your information, not even my mother-in-law was around two thousand years ago.”

“Perhaps you should read Matthew 27:25. The Jews who demanded Christ’s crucifixion volunteered that His blood should be on their heads and on the heads of their children.”

“Ah, but it says nothing about the children agreeing to that arrangement. But speaking of blood, do you enjoy a good blood sausage?”

“Blutwurst? Yes, of course; my mother was a German Mennonite.”

“Ah, then you may do well to memorize Leviticus 17:10-nope, I take that back. According to that verse the Good Lord has already set His face against you, and cut you off from among His people.”

“Mmm, perhaps some Sunday school teachers need to read their Bibles more, Magdalena. Are you forgetting that in the Book of Acts the apostle Peter has a vision in which the Lord tells him that all creatures are now-how shall I put this?-acceptable for human consumption.”

“Well, I for one would certainly be cautious about questioning a voice heard in Peter ’s trance. On the other hand, in Leviticus 3:17, the Lord Himself, who has been speaking directly to Moses all along, has the following to say: ‘This shall be a perpetual statute throughout your generations in all your dwellings: you shall eat neither fat nor blood.’ The Good Lord is omniscient, Merle, and He could see all the way down the line to the apostle Peter, yet He didn’t put an escape clause in that verse, did he?”

“That’s because the verse you just quoted applies to Jews only.”

“Peter was a Jew. You see, Merle, I was the Scripture-verse-memorization champion three years in a row at vacation Bible school. After that they made me ineligible; they said I was demoralizing the other kids.”