Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

Dandelion Request Form
Dandelion Request Form
Dandelion Request Form
Ebook23 pages18 minutes

Dandelion Request Form

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars

()

Read preview

About this ebook

Bloomfield is a town of tradition, ceremony, and wholesome values. For years, the Bibsin family has been a source of scandal for the neighbors of this small community.

Sean Bibsin knows one thing for certain. He outlived his mother. After being diagnosed with AIDS, he was estranged from his mother and the home he grew up in. But on the day of her mother's burial, and under the protection of his sister, Shelly Bibsin, reconciliation has a way of taking root in the strangest places.

LanguageEnglish
PublisherEmily Hopkins
Release dateMar 13, 2012
Dandelion Request Form
Author

Emily Hopkins

Independent and self-published author and artist.

Related to Dandelion Request Form

Related ebooks

Sagas For You

View More

Related articles

Related categories

Reviews for Dandelion Request Form

Rating: 0 out of 5 stars
0 ratings

0 ratings0 reviews

What did you think?

Tap to rate

Review must be at least 10 words

    Book preview

    Dandelion Request Form - Emily Hopkins

    Dandelion Request Form

    Emily Hopkins

    Published by Emily Hopkins at Smashwords

    2014 Copyright Free Emily Hopkins

    Cover Illustration by Jesse Hopkins

    For W.H. & J.H.

    Dandelion Request Form

    Connect With Emily Hopkins

    DANDELION REQUEST FORM

    SHELLY BIBSIN WORE a goddamn yellow bikini to her mother’s burial. Later called the harlot's homecoming by the gray-haired gossips and firm-titted chits, her arrival abruptly interrupted Father Morin's graveside prayer reading. Distracted by the lemon-hued aberration, the poor Father stumbled through thy kingdom, stuttered queerly about come, exhaled with an exaggerated amen, and then, blessedly, fell silent. The gathered mourners, orthodox in dress and grief, sat in dumb abeyance and gawked at Shelly as she sauntered to where I was seated in the far corner of the front row of chairs. She perched herself on my lap like a plucky canary; legs crossed at the knees, hands folded in prayer like a regular, cross-me-up-and-down, church lady. The chair teetered on the uneven ground and I grabbed her bare hips to keep us from toppling. And, by God!, Father Morin coughed when I touched her.

    Gathering wits from some holy place, the harassed Father took up the service and pushed through it with the martyred determination of Jesus hauling his cross to his crucifixion.

    Through it all, Shelly cried. Each hiccuped sob bounced her breasts so that the fleshy mounds jiggled like under-cooked muffins puffing out of yellow paper liners.

    Enjoying the preview?
    Page 1 of 1