lol. (she's going to be killed for inconsistency)

Once upon a time, in the city of Pittsburgh, a writer got really sick of characters she knew through and through. So what did she do? She started a new book. So far, it's unnamed. Setting: the Prohibition...

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Allan put a warm, sticky hand in mine. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, climbing out of bed. He looked up at me and grinned, “Hallo, mum. We going to church?”
“No, not today, honey,” I said, brushing the blonde curls from his face. “Today’s Saturday. We’re going to go to Alice’s house for some tea, okay?”
“Okay!” Allan replied exuberantly, jumping up and down.
“Alright then,” I smiled. “First we’ve got to brush our teeth and get dressed…”
“And eat breakfast!” Allan added.
“And eat breakfast,” I agreed. Allan dragged me from the bed and started the morning process – brushing his teeth with my help and so on. I sat Allan down in one of the chairs of the kitchen table and he chattered to me about school.

“Mum,” he asked, “Why don’t you wear red today? You look so pretty in red. And some of the eye-stuff. Like you used to when I was little.”
I laughed, “You want me to wear makeup?”
“Yeah; I mean, yes,” he corrected himself. “I want you to look pretty!”
“Okay. First things first, though,” I said, putting a sunny-side-up egg and a piece of toast on a plate. “You eat; I’ll go get dolled up.” I put on pink lipstick and really light eyeliner and eye shadow. Alice always bought me makeup – she said a woman like me should still look pretty. When I came back into the room, Allan was finishing his egg and toast and putting his coat on.
“Let’s go, mum,” he said. “I wanna see Auntie Alice. She always has good food.” Alice wasn’t really his aunt. I work at her speak-easy. Alice took me in when I was pregnant with Allan; she was even his godmother. We all went to Saint Mary’s in the slums on Sunday’s like a real family. Just Alice, Allan, and me. It was nice.

New York City’s got nice slums, if you don’t look too hard – you just have to learn to appreciate what you got. I grew up here – in Saint Mary’s orphanage. My parents just up and left me, but now I’ve got Alice and Allan. The best and only family I’ll ever need. I work at Alice’s. It used to be a pub, only it isn’t because of the Prohibition. So Alice serves coffee in the mornings and the stuff with alcohol in it after ten at night. I work at Alice’s when Alice takes the night off because then Alice will take care of Allan when I take care of the shop. It’s nice and the guys aren’t too bad either. I just let them have some alcohol to take the edge off. Some of them have really bad lives. I think the alcohol let’s them take away the pain of life sometimes.

Allan and I walked to Alice’s house holding hands. Allan hummed and sang as he walked right by the street. He was really happy.
“What’s making you so happy today, Allan?” I asked. He looked at me with his pretty grey eyes.
“Look, mum,” he said pointing to the sky. “God gave me a pretty day and you and Auntie Alice. Why shouldn’t I be happy?” I smiled at his beautiful child’s faith. “And I heard this really good song on the radio yesterday,” he added.
“Oh?” I asked. “Did you like that song?”
“Yeah; I mean yes,” he said. “I liked that song.”
“Okay then,” I said, as we walked up the alley way to Alice’s house. Alice’s speak-easy was a really dolled up place – she had flower boxes on the windows and all. She had the doors painted bright colors like she had nothing to hide. Her house was even more inviting. It was built into the back of the speak-easy with a wrap-around porch on two sides and on the first and second floor. It was white with green trimmings. The perfect example of a pretty country house – except that it was down in the slums. Alice was on the porch waiting for us. Allan ran into her arms.
“Well, hey there, Allan, Kristy,” she said, lifting Allan up. Allan giggled happily.
“Got food, Auntie Alice?” he asked.
“Allan, be polite,” I chided. “Besides, you just ate.”
“I’m still hungry,” he whined. I looked at Alice. She smiled.
“I’ve got cookies cooling off now…” she trailed off.
“Oh, alright,” I said, defeated. “Allan, please and thank you,” I reminded him.
“Okay, mum.”
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So how do her people like it, eh?

Love from Beezyk, Tony, and moi,

Asiat