The Full Cupboard
The large country house with a porch (also called a garret by the backwoods people) running from end to end contrasted sharply with the little huts sitting amidst the oak, pecan, pine, and walnut trees that landscaped section 35 of the county.
The owner, a disgraced and defrocked pastor, spent most of his time on the porch preaching to imaginary congregants. His wife, a spiteful, materialistic shrew, whiled away her days in separate quarters, counting their money and thinking up ways to pester the younger women and children who made up the tiny hamlet.
The house boasted a spacious kitchen with built-in cupboards and an electric(!) stove. The cupboard nearest the stove was always full. Always. On the rare occasions they were granted entrance to the manor, poverty-stricken neighbors would stare in envious fascination at the assortment of store-bought goods that filled its shelves.
Apparently the man and woman never availed themselves of any of the goods because the goods never, ever diminished. The neighbors certainly never asked for any of the hoarded store - they were lacking in wealth, not dignity - and the children knew better than to think about asking.
One child, in particular seemed to raise the hackles of the lady of the house. A little two-room school was directly across the road from the big house, and whenever the teachers would visit with her, this child's name was always mentioned with awe and admiration.
The day came when the inevitable happened. The model child was called upon by the lady to run some errands, with a promise that she could have anything of her choosing from the overstocked cupboard ...
TBC