As Cochran Cornell the Cantankerous Cockroach’s letter continues, he relates an incident about his friend, A’nonniemouse, which occurred at a church where the husband of Cochran’s creator was the pastor. Previous segments of Cochran’s letter are posted in the Beanery Online Magazine’s category, Cochran’s Writings. One morning when I was in church and I was having fun terrorizing people---I've got a fascination for shoestrings, and I just love to untie shoestrings. Well, I knew that Carolyn Holland wore these crazy tennies and I was thinking this was perhaps one morning when she had them on. Well, she didn't wear her tennies to church, but it wouldn't have surprised me if she had. She had on a nice pair of shoes, and before I could steal her shoestrings, she caught me, and perhaps it's a good thing that she did. She picked me up and she was holding me in her hand. Well, this caused some commotion somewhat. A lady sitting beside her, a Mrs. Twiddle Van Snoot looked at me in Carolyn's hand, then promptly screamed and fainted. Carolyn, being thoughtful and quick minded (she's very very quick, you can't get ahead of her, I've tried. Don't try, Cochran, it won't work, you'll never get ahead of her. But good luck if you do try), stuck me in her purse. She was out of it before Carolyn stuck me in her purse. Ooh, she screamed and fainted and whoop gone away, took away in a dead faint. She did. It was funny. Mrs. Twiddle Van Snoot just really did it in. She was fainted dead away. By the time they came around and wanted to know out what made Mrs Twiddle Van Snoot take a notion to swoon away, she didn't have the answer, because nobody knew where the mouse went. I had to confess when I was down there in her purse in the midst of all the rest of that junk----most of the stuff women have in a purse I think it's junk, but they think its necessary---down there snickering to myself, playing with a set of keys, and I was laughing. Well, this interrupted poor Monte's sermon. I don't recall if he ever did get the rest of that message preached. I'm not too sure. They finally revived Mrs. T. If my memory serves me correctly she got up and moved away from Carolyn, and I don't think she ever again liked the idea of sitting beside her. Well, don't know that I could blame her in a way, but she didn't know that I was a harmless mouse, that I was a personal friend of Carolyn’s. She couldn't know that. And it's for sure Carolyn wasn't about to tell her. No. Carolyn's crazy, but she's not nuts. She's not about to tell anyone that she's got a mouse for a friend. They'd have her locked up in the pokey. They'd have her shipped off to the funny farm. If she's not altogether balanced, she's getting away with it. But to consort with a mouse? And a cockroach? Click back next Monday night for Part 4 of this series, Cochran’s Letters About Finding His Identity. The series will continue on successive Monday nights until the letter is fully posted. The parts are filed in the category Cochran’s Writings on the Beanery Writers Online Magazine. |
