Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

I’m Pink Lady Apple Yeggs and my friend, and brother-in-law, Deviled Yeggs suggested that I record each project that I set up in the hopes of reforming the people who continue to work for Lily the Pink Enterprises.  If for no other reason, it would show how God is at work.

Joseph Jones had only been on the job a week and he wanted to give me a progress report.  All attempts at being a fly on the wall in all-women Bible studies had failed, but almost every employee had filled out a strange survey.  Most people laughed their way through it, but since the survey was anonymous, he got some very interesting answers.  So, I thought the responses from the survey might be his main focus.  After all, he had registered late and had tons of homework to catch up.  I was wrong about his reason to talk, but not completely.

We sat in my office.  We had never remodeled.  It was a dining room for key staff to have breakfast and give progress reports, but it was also my private office.  I was thinking about turning part of the unused space into a family nursery.  I am still figuring out how I can let go of the reins of the company, take more of a motherly role with Kanok and Joon, and rest so that there are no complications with the new arrival.  And thinking of that, it will be close, but I hoped to be lactating so that I can provide the last mother’s milk for Joon before he is weened.

All these thoughts went through my mind as Joseph sat in my guest chair, the soft cushioned chair, not the torture chair with the sharp spikes.  Just kidding, but the soft cushioned chair is the one I had been using to take naps in lately.  Hey!  I am learning how to slow down.  I noticed Joseph slid the ottoman aside.  I need to remind him to slide it back in place – you know, since I need my rest.

I suggested, “Joseph, I dare say you have no firm results yet.  I have heard that you sitting in on Bible studies has been disruptive.  Not bad, just that they like to do girl talk and you being there makes them self-conscious.”

Joseph smiled, “I think we knew that already.  I did not get a good feel of any group, but it seemed each group had a variety of people at different places in their spiritual walk, and maybe a few that were still seeking.  Since there are so many groups, it will be a long time before I can have any rapport with the ladies.  I think you are wondering about my survey.  I asked strange sounding questions so that it would seem to be a fun exercise, but at the same time, it gave me insights into the backgrounds of these ladies.  While their skin tone, height, hair color, shape of the nose, and such are highly diverse, there are a few backgrounds that are quite common.  My strange questions pointed to things that normal family upbringing might answer one way and dysfunctional homes, for whatever reason, might answer in another way.  I was hoping I might get a few laughs, so they did not get the idea that I was prying into places they would rather not talk about.”

I nodded, “I was thinking as much, but you had me on a few of those questions.  Let’s see, I had a couple of the dolls that you mentioned, and I rarely touched paper dolls.  I could remember my favorite cartoon shows.  My greatest fear was someone under my bed.  But what does that mean?”

Joseph laughed, “The way you answered the questions pointed to you directly.  I had no doubt it was yours, and in spite of what your father did for a living, you had a very normal childhood, until your father went to prison, and even then, you were not denied much.  I think your Uncle Dellie, crime boss extraordinaire, filled in nicely.  That may be why he has a soft spot for you.  He was your surrogate father during the rough teenaged years.”

I asked, “So, what have you found?”

Joseph smiled, “Can I phrase this as a fable, so you do not fire me?”

I cleared my throat, “You are here to help with a very sticky issue.  You can say anything in any form.  I need your help.”

Joseph chuckled, “I’m glad I can speak freely.  There is a family here that is doing quite well with pretending to be well-adjusted.”

I cleared my throat.

Joseph held up a hand.  “Let’s make this like a sermon.  I talk and you smile and nod your head even when it is not really pleasant.  Okay?”  I nodded, and he continued.  “The father in this family has three sons.  I checked.  I cannot call this story ‘My Three Sons’ because the copyright people will get upset, but that is the fact, for the moment.  He thought he was too old to perform, but then he started taking the right kind of medicine and his wife got pregnant.  That was a surprise to her, in that she thought she was already finished with menopause, having it earlier than most.  It was really stress from work and a hormone imbalance.  So, three adult sons, two of them married, one with a child that will have to call the new arrival in nine months her aunt or uncle.  It will not be the first time that has happened.  And I wonder if the mother in this case did not wish to be left out, since so many of her friends had newborn children, or if the mother wanted to make up for the child she never mothered when he grew up?”  I gave him my biggest smile I could to cover for wanting to punch him in the nose.

He smiled, “Then, the oldest son is the only one not married.  He had not even dated until about a year ago.  He was not exactly abandoned, but his mother’s friend dropped him off at the monastery, and the monks had no idea how to handle a teenager going on dates, so he missed that part of growing up.  Through a strange set of circumstances that he had nothing to do with, he suddenly became a high-ranking government official.  And he started dating a very capable woman, but she had once been the dominatrix of the local brothel.  Modern politics does not like those kinds of things in people’s closets, so the marriage had to be postponed.  But we have no idea how that relationship will change once they get married.”

Joseph sighed, “Next comes the middle child who was once named Rotten and he lived down to his name.  He was just a few months younger than the first, a different mother.  With a name like Rotten, and a rotten attitude, he never got any dates.  When he paid for it at the brothel, which was here at one time, he was brutal.  One lady got a broken arm, others with bloody noses and bruised up.  He probably had that “It’s-a-rental” attitude.”  I looked puzzled.  “Oh, you never worked with a bunch of rough guys.  I worked a couple of summers with this charity.  My boss was the wheeler-dealer.  He got food from the grocery store that had not gone bad but was almost there.  He negotiated all kinds of deals, but people were fed.  But to do so, we drove down many back roads and alleys.  When we would run over something in the road or hop over a curb, I would ask him to watch where he was driving.  He would shrug and say, “It’s a rental.”  That meant that he did not care about the car, it was a rental.  Rotten did not care about the prostitute, she was a rental.  Okay, now you understand.  Rotten went to prison.  Rotten was released because the prison was overcrowded.  And until he could play nice, you wanted him nowhere near this place.  His extremely tall girlfriend, a former prostitute, taught him how to be nice and they both learned, as adults, how to date, since they had never been on dates.  Now that they are married, they are having problems.  Rotten, now Otto, is timid, wanting to avoid hurting her.  She is built like a Russian tank, and she wants him to act like a man, not hurt her, but take charge.  And then, she is a head and a half taller than he is and the physical aspects of lovemaking are complicated.  Do you know a sex therapist?”

I cleared my throat, “If I am allowed to answer the pastor in the middle of his sermon, Naomi is qualified.  That would be awkward.  If Naomi’s assistant, Pauline Niblick, is qualified also, that might be a better option.”

Joseph nodded, “And then we come to the very interesting family.  The youngest son has a reputation of sleeping with more different ladies than some of your prostitutes have ever slept with, all while in high school.  He leaves that lifestyle behind because he wants to be a detective like his uncle.  He works hard and obtains his goal.  In the meantime, he marries someone who is not a former prostitute.  But his wife has given advice to a nephew who is not even a teenager about sex and relationships, and no one knows what she said.  But she walks with her husband down the street, and she sees one attractive woman after another and they have to say something along the lines of, “Hi, Poached, remember me?  I was second Tuesday.”  That meant every second Tuesday of every month, they got together to do naughty things.  The wife of Poached is not happy about that.  She wants to leave Tracy.  She is not from here.  It is her husband who has never known living anywhere else.”

Joseph shook his head and sighed, “And your family is so much more well adjusted than ninety percent of the ladies who you employ.  There are the runaways.  But then the questions come up.  Why did they run away?  Were they rebellious and the home life was not that bad?  Was a parent rough with the punishment and overbearing?  Was a parent sexually abusive?  Or were they just so poor, the kid wanted to go it on her own?  You have one product of a dysfunctional family after another.  They have no idea what a functional family is, and your dysfunctional, functional family, for better or worse – no, it can’t be worse than what they experienced at home, at least most of them.  Then, there are the career prostitutes that are trying their best to fit in here.  They know this is a better life, but they cannot remember their childhood.  Then you have the combination of Christians, wannabe Christians, pretend Christians – like a book I read recently, not a fan by Kyle Idleman, they are fans of being a Christian, but they are not totally committed as you must be – and those, I am afraid, that have no desire to believe, but their big boss is so much of an on-fire Christian that being a Christian here is the thing to be.  Those that do not believe shrink into the corner thinking that they are outnumbered.”

I wiped tears from my eyes, “Is the sermon over?  I like those sermons that end with God saving the day and everyone lives happily ever after.”

Joseph laughed, “The sermon is almost over, but I think your favorite sermon has been confused with a fairy tale.  If it starts with a prayer of illumination, it’s a sermon.  If it starts with ‘Once upon a time…’ it’s a fairy tale.”

I chided him, “But you started with prefacing that you were telling a fable.  I need that happy ending or the moral story, young man.  Do not leave me hanging!”

Joseph smiled, “Yes, ma’am, Mommy Tinkie, yes, ma’am.  I felt overwhelmed.  I called my old student advisor at the seminary and told him the situation.  He tried to assure me that my time as a chaplain grew my pastoral care skills, but he is going to give me some books, and he wants me to identify all who will be willing to enter into a recorded therapy session.  The more audio and more video sessions that I have, successful or hair-pulling, the better.  I will not have to attend the seminary, but my advisor thinks that my work here will count toward the seminary degree that I had put on hold.  But, Mommy Tinkie, it is going to take the two of us.  It is going to take your family getting more functional while sharing its warts.  And it might take some social experimentation.  Maybe have the better families from the mission work with some of the dysfunctional employees, that is employees from totally dysfunctional families.  And maybe we can find some young adults from the community that would love to have a social event here in the greenhouse.  We need to expose these ladies to socially acceptable human interactions.”

I nodded, “When we have had water polo tournaments and beach volleyball tournaments, they have experienced something that seemed normal, but that is a sports setting.  Having a meal with a family is a great idea, like a cousin or aunt coming to visit.  That is a wonderful idea, but let’s take it slow.  If we do too much and then things turn sideways, we won’t know the thing that made it go sideways.  Right?”

Joseph nodded, “Great idea.  I will continue to try my failed fly-on-the-wall routine.  I will start interviewing as many ladies one on one as my college time will allow.  And I have two or three ladies that I think need to adopt a family.  I think the Grunges and the Daltons are good prospects if they want to be part of the program.  Maybe Jochebed and Georges Evident, since they have your company president’s children in their apartment.  Do you think that those families might accept an adopted aunt?”

But I was just marveling that this young man was so eager to work with these ladies, helping them find normalcy in all this chaos.  While all along wanted to show them the love of Jesus.

Credits

The characters in this story have been introduced over the past year, mostly.