April Fool

“That’s not trans fat,” screeched Olive Joan. Her voice hitting a high note on fat. “That’s papaya.” Her wide maniacal eyes gave the impression that her eyeballs were going to pop right out of their sockets, one wanted to lean in and push one’s fingers against them to stop that happening. Perhaps we could get tooth picks and place them between her bushy eyebrows and the top of her cheek bones to keep her eyeballs in place, you know, like the bars on the windows of the mental institution in which most people believed Olive Joan should be.

“It looks like trans fat on the white plate,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo.

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not,” squawked Olive Joan, the most hated woman in Warracknabeal, with her airs and graces and her better-than-the-rest-of-you attitude. “How many times do I have to tell you?”

“You can tell me as many times as you like,” repeated DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “But it still looks like papaya to me.”

“It’s not! It’s not! It’s not.” Olive Joan started spinning in circles.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo leant forward and wiped the tips of his two fat fingers through the disputed orange substance on the plate before them, then lifted the two chubby digits to his mouth and sucked the orange substance right off them. “There,” he proclaimed. “Sweet and lovely, what did I say. Papaya. Papaya. Papaya. Confirmed.”

Olive Joan stopped spinning like an unhinged whirling dervish, grabbing her hair that didn’t, exactly stop spinning with the rest of her.

DodgeTruck Hullabaloo held his fingers out to her. “Go on, suck my fingers.”

“I don’t want to suck your disgusting fingers,” screeched Olive Joan. “Who do you think you are talking to?

“Someone who has just been proven wrong,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “That’s who.”

“No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!” Olive Joan started to spin again.

“Come on boys,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. He clicked his fingers in the air. “Take her away.”

And the men in hats with white coats entered stage left. They wrapped Olive Joan up tightly in white material, then loaded her on each of their shoulders and carried her to the big white ambulance and popped her inside.

“So much emotional damage,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. And the Ambulance started up and drove away. “Now, there’s a good job done.”

DodgeTruck Hullaballo clicked his fingers again. Ninza, the fruit seller, pushed his fruit cart into vice. “More fruit, my good sir?” asked Ninza.

“Oh yes, please,” said DodgeTruck Hullabaloo. “Do you have any more of that very fine papaya?”

“Yes, sir, good, sir, coming right up, sir,” said Ninza the fruit seller.