Myrtle's only dress was yellow with blue butterflies on it. The bees were attracted to it. Myrtle always had to run screaming back into the house. It did not help the situation any that she had no shoes.
Myrtle's mother would laugh at her, and then get annoyed, and then yell at her to get back outside. This was back before televisions. This was back before Myrtle's father won the lottery, which was before he ran off with his boss's secretary, which was before he got run over by the car driven by his boss's secretary's uncle, who was Mormon. This was before there were laws against that, at least in Myrtle's town, so the uncle got off scot-free. This was before Myrtle had met Scotty the Scotsman and learned the art of revenge.
This was when Myrtle's house was painted the color of a swimming pool. The other kids laughed about it. Theirs were respectable colors, theirs were white or cream-colored or mauve. Also, theirs had doors, and Myrtle's did not, just curtains, even on the front door. The other kids threw mud pies at the house and Myrtle and her mother were always having to sweep the living room floor.
Myrtle flunked kindergarten but skipped first grade. Her intellect was very odd. The teachers couldn't figure her out. "I just can't figure her out," her kindergarten teacher Mrs. Flick told Mrs. Jones. "Sometimes she's the smartest kid in here, but sometimes she's the dumbest. I'm going to have to hold her back a year."
"I just can't figure her out," her first grade teacher Mrs. Hazelwood told Mr. Jones. "She flunked kindergarten, and frankly you have to be pretty dumb to flunk kindergarten, but her test scores so far in first grade are at the eighth grade level. She's bored. I'm sending her to second grade."
By the time Myrtle got to third grade, though, her intellect had leveled off and she was pretty normal. By this time her house had been repainted, her mother had found another dress for her, and someone had given her their old shoes to wear. She had also gotten a kitten, which she named Myrtle Jr.
Her father told her the name was dumb. She said to him, "Father, many children name their pets after themselves. Please just indulge me, okay?"
"Don't talk back to me, you hear?" he said. "You hear me, Myrtle?" Then he called her Myrtle the Turtle and felt the fury of her indignation for the first time.
Book Three - The Failed Friendship Experiment
Taffy shrieked and pointed. She jumped up and down and clapped her hands.
"Taffy, jesus, you've been a world-renowned ornithologist for 32 years now, could you calm down a little?" Myrtle said, annoyed.
"But, baby ducks!" Taffy squealed. "Tiny baby duck bills! Oh my god!" Taffy laughed and jumped and clapped some more.
"Every time you see a baby duck you freak out," Myrtle said. "It's old, it's disingenuous."
"You are a cold woman, Myrtle B. Jones." Taffy finished her yogurt and threw the container into the lake.
"Me!" Myrtle shrieked. "Me! What about you? What about you, Taffy Jones? You just threw away a pink lid!"
"A what?"
"Pink lids save lives! Don't you care about breast cancer?"
"No."
"And you call me cold."
"That ten cents wouldn't have done anything."
"How do you know? That could have been THE ten cents."
Taffy reached into her pocket and pulled out a dime. "Here you go, Myrtle, go save lives with this." She threw the coin at Myrtle, hitting her on the forehead.
"Ow!" Myrtle cried. She looked in the grass where the dime had fallen but didn't see it. "And now it's lost. Look at what you've done. The dime is the most value-packed of the coins, and you've lost one."
"I feel real bad," Taffy said. She looked at her watch. "My break's over. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Kay bye," Myrtle said. She went back to her encampment, sat on her log, and watched Taffy walk back into the research center.
Don't miss next week's episode, when Myrtle's mother's mysterious past comes back to haunt her!
"Taffy, jesus, you've been a world-renowned ornithologist for 32 years now, could you calm down a little?" Myrtle said, annoyed.
"But, baby ducks!" Taffy squealed. "Tiny baby duck bills! Oh my god!" Taffy laughed and jumped and clapped some more.
"Every time you see a baby duck you freak out," Myrtle said. "It's old, it's disingenuous."
"You are a cold woman, Myrtle B. Jones." Taffy finished her yogurt and threw the container into the lake.
"Me!" Myrtle shrieked. "Me! What about you? What about you, Taffy Jones? You just threw away a pink lid!"
"A what?"
"Pink lids save lives! Don't you care about breast cancer?"
"No."
"And you call me cold."
"That ten cents wouldn't have done anything."
"How do you know? That could have been THE ten cents."
Taffy reached into her pocket and pulled out a dime. "Here you go, Myrtle, go save lives with this." She threw the coin at Myrtle, hitting her on the forehead.
"Ow!" Myrtle cried. She looked in the grass where the dime had fallen but didn't see it. "And now it's lost. Look at what you've done. The dime is the most value-packed of the coins, and you've lost one."
"I feel real bad," Taffy said. She looked at her watch. "My break's over. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Kay bye," Myrtle said. She went back to her encampment, sat on her log, and watched Taffy walk back into the research center.
Don't miss next week's episode, when Myrtle's mother's mysterious past comes back to haunt her!
Episode 11
"The tall man with the jacket, what's his name?" Taffy asked.
"Buffingham," Myrtle answered. "He's my manservant."
"Nice," Taffy said. "What time is it?"
"Nearly fourteen hundred."
"Okay. Get ready."
Myrtle and Taffy hunkered. Taffy adjusted the tail on her coonskin hat to keep the rain from dripping down her neck. The silence around them would have been deafening were it not for the howling wind.
A few minutes later there came a loud hubbub and a ruckus. Water splashed, weeds and reeds were trampled, wings were flapped.
"Fire!" Taffy yelled, pulling her sword from its sheath and pointing it at the sky. Myrtle stood up, aimed the rifle at a dark spot, and pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a thump and a quiet squawk were heard.
"Woohoo!" Taffy yelled. "Duck tonight!" She and Myrtle high-fived.
"I hope Buffingham got a lot of ducklings," Myrtle said. "I can eat five of them little buggers myself."
Three hours later there was a rapping on the ramshackle cabin's main door.
"Buffingham, the door," Myrtle said.
Buffingham shuffled across the floor.
"Hurry up!" Taffy shouted.
"Taffy don't you dare boss my manservant around," Myrtle said.
The door opened before Buffingham could reach it. A goose honked. A figure loomed. Buffingham screamed, then fainted.
"Buffingham," Myrtle answered. "He's my manservant."
"Nice," Taffy said. "What time is it?"
"Nearly fourteen hundred."
"Okay. Get ready."
Myrtle and Taffy hunkered. Taffy adjusted the tail on her coonskin hat to keep the rain from dripping down her neck. The silence around them would have been deafening were it not for the howling wind.
A few minutes later there came a loud hubbub and a ruckus. Water splashed, weeds and reeds were trampled, wings were flapped.
"Fire!" Taffy yelled, pulling her sword from its sheath and pointing it at the sky. Myrtle stood up, aimed the rifle at a dark spot, and pulled the trigger. A few seconds later a thump and a quiet squawk were heard.
"Woohoo!" Taffy yelled. "Duck tonight!" She and Myrtle high-fived.
"I hope Buffingham got a lot of ducklings," Myrtle said. "I can eat five of them little buggers myself."
Three hours later there was a rapping on the ramshackle cabin's main door.
"Buffingham, the door," Myrtle said.
Buffingham shuffled across the floor.
"Hurry up!" Taffy shouted.
"Taffy don't you dare boss my manservant around," Myrtle said.
The door opened before Buffingham could reach it. A goose honked. A figure loomed. Buffingham screamed, then fainted.
Vol II. Chapter iv
Myrtle scanned the room nervously. She finally found Taffy in a corner that was lit up only by the glowing red eyes of a bull's head mounted on the dark purple wall. Taffy was talking and laughing with a man in a black ribbed turtleneck who was smoking a pipe.
"Taffy, we really should go," Myrtle whispered, pulling Taffy's arm.
"Excuse me," the man in the turtleneck said. "Tafitha and I are engaged in conversation and you, miss, are being very rude."
"Tafitha?" Myrtle furrowed her brows.
"Myrtrude, go get me another drink," Taffy said haughtily, pushing her glass at Myrtle and spilling the remnants of her mint hachitori on Myrtle's cashmere sweater.
Myrtle, pissed, grabbed Taffy's arm and pulled her away from the corner. The man in the turtleneck exaggerated an exhalation and turned to face the bull, mumbling.
"Tafitha? Myrtrude?" Myrtle hissed at Taffy. "What is this crap?"
"I just thought it would help us blend in better," Taffy said.
"Going by stupid names? That only makes us stand out even more than these matching sweaters you stole for us. If you hadn't noticed, we're the only people wearing pink in the entire city. Everyone else is in black."
"Stop being so mean," Taffy said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Oh please, stop crying," Myrtle said. "You're always such a crybaby."
Suddenly the man in the turtleneck came up.
"Tafitha, oh my god! Why do you cry?" He pushed Myrtle away and put his arms around Taffy. They walked towards the door together. Myrtle watched for a few seconds, then ran after them.
"Hold up, you pedophilic pervert, where are you going with my best friend?"
"Myrtrude, Tafitha may be your best friend, but you certainly aren't hers," the man said without stopping.
"My name isn't Myrtrude, moron!"
The man stopped walking.
"And her name isn't Tafitha either." Myrtle felt triumphant as she watched the man's hold on Taffy loosen.
"So I thought," the man muttered grimly. "So I thought. It's Taffy Black and Myrtle B. Jones, isn't it? The juvenile outlaw duo from New Jersey, on a crime spree across the country. Now you've made it to San Francisco. You're at the edge of the continent. Where to now, Myrtle? Now what? What's your big plan now? Huh, Myrtle the Turtle?"
He was taunting her like the bullies from school, tempting her to punch him in the face.
"I'll tell you where you're going next, big shot," the man continued. "You're going to the clink, the big house, yes." He was laughing menacingly, and then he pulled two pairs of handcuffs from his back pocket. "On the ground! SFPD!"
Myrtle and Taffy remained where they were. The man looked at them, they looked back. Then he pulled out a gun and began shouting. "I said on the ground! Everyone on the ground!"
Stoned beatniks turned their heads. No one was impressed.
The turtlenecked man shouted again, the pitch of his voice getting higher. "Come on people! There's a gun here! Come on! I'm a police officer!"
"That guy's so lame," someone across the room said.
"Yeah, that turtleneck stinks," someone else said.
The man fired at the ceiling. Plaster rained down. People began jumping around, yelping.
Taffy looked at Myrtle, Myrtle looked at Taffy, and they rolled their eyes.
"This party sucks," Taffy said.
"No shit," Myrtle said. They walked out the door into the night. It had stopped raining. The small dog they had left near the fire hydrant was still there guarding the sack full of hundred dollar bills. The vase of tulips, though, had been kicked over, the vase shattered, the tulips pilfered for their opium.
Join us next week, when Taffy's philanthropic work is recognized by the Queen in a grand ceremony at Buckingham Palace! But will Myrtle's ex-fiancé, the evil Dr. Fischratt, ruin the party?
Parental Advisory: The above story contains tasteless profanity, needless violence, and uninformed drug references. Please do not let your children read it. Hopefully they haven't already. Perhaps we should have placed this warning before the story but it's such a pain to have to go back and retype the whole page.
"Taffy, we really should go," Myrtle whispered, pulling Taffy's arm.
"Excuse me," the man in the turtleneck said. "Tafitha and I are engaged in conversation and you, miss, are being very rude."
"Tafitha?" Myrtle furrowed her brows.
"Myrtrude, go get me another drink," Taffy said haughtily, pushing her glass at Myrtle and spilling the remnants of her mint hachitori on Myrtle's cashmere sweater.
Myrtle, pissed, grabbed Taffy's arm and pulled her away from the corner. The man in the turtleneck exaggerated an exhalation and turned to face the bull, mumbling.
"Tafitha? Myrtrude?" Myrtle hissed at Taffy. "What is this crap?"
"I just thought it would help us blend in better," Taffy said.
"Going by stupid names? That only makes us stand out even more than these matching sweaters you stole for us. If you hadn't noticed, we're the only people wearing pink in the entire city. Everyone else is in black."
"Stop being so mean," Taffy said, tears welling in her eyes.
"Oh please, stop crying," Myrtle said. "You're always such a crybaby."
Suddenly the man in the turtleneck came up.
"Tafitha, oh my god! Why do you cry?" He pushed Myrtle away and put his arms around Taffy. They walked towards the door together. Myrtle watched for a few seconds, then ran after them.
"Hold up, you pedophilic pervert, where are you going with my best friend?"
"Myrtrude, Tafitha may be your best friend, but you certainly aren't hers," the man said without stopping.
"My name isn't Myrtrude, moron!"
The man stopped walking.
"And her name isn't Tafitha either." Myrtle felt triumphant as she watched the man's hold on Taffy loosen.
"So I thought," the man muttered grimly. "So I thought. It's Taffy Black and Myrtle B. Jones, isn't it? The juvenile outlaw duo from New Jersey, on a crime spree across the country. Now you've made it to San Francisco. You're at the edge of the continent. Where to now, Myrtle? Now what? What's your big plan now? Huh, Myrtle the Turtle?"
He was taunting her like the bullies from school, tempting her to punch him in the face.
"I'll tell you where you're going next, big shot," the man continued. "You're going to the clink, the big house, yes." He was laughing menacingly, and then he pulled two pairs of handcuffs from his back pocket. "On the ground! SFPD!"
Myrtle and Taffy remained where they were. The man looked at them, they looked back. Then he pulled out a gun and began shouting. "I said on the ground! Everyone on the ground!"
Stoned beatniks turned their heads. No one was impressed.
The turtlenecked man shouted again, the pitch of his voice getting higher. "Come on people! There's a gun here! Come on! I'm a police officer!"
"That guy's so lame," someone across the room said.
"Yeah, that turtleneck stinks," someone else said.
The man fired at the ceiling. Plaster rained down. People began jumping around, yelping.
Taffy looked at Myrtle, Myrtle looked at Taffy, and they rolled their eyes.
"This party sucks," Taffy said.
"No shit," Myrtle said. They walked out the door into the night. It had stopped raining. The small dog they had left near the fire hydrant was still there guarding the sack full of hundred dollar bills. The vase of tulips, though, had been kicked over, the vase shattered, the tulips pilfered for their opium.
Join us next week, when Taffy's philanthropic work is recognized by the Queen in a grand ceremony at Buckingham Palace! But will Myrtle's ex-fiancé, the evil Dr. Fischratt, ruin the party?
Parental Advisory: The above story contains tasteless profanity, needless violence, and uninformed drug references. Please do not let your children read it. Hopefully they haven't already. Perhaps we should have placed this warning before the story but it's such a pain to have to go back and retype the whole page.
Chapter 14
Myrtle and Taffy stopped running once they got into the woods. Taffy fell to the ground. "My inhaler," she croaked between gasps for air. "It's in my jacket."
Myrtle frantically rifled through the candy wrappers, BBs, and business cards in Taffy's pockets as Taffy's lips turned an alarming shade of blue. "I can't find it, Taff!" she yelled. "Don't die on me!"
"It's in my jacket, you idiot," Taffy whispered.
"I'm looking in your jacket, jerk," Myrtle said. "Fine." She got up and stomped away.
"Fine!" Taffy sputtered. "I'll find it myself!" She sat up and emptied out her pockets.
"Dagnabbit son of a guppy!" she yelled a few minutes later. "That dog must've gotten hold of it." She stood up, walked over to Myrtle, who was sitting on a log, and began kicking her in the shins.
"Knock it off," Myrtle said. Taffy kept on kicking. Myrtle stood up and pushed her away.
"Let's go," Myrtle said. "Our parents will be here any minute."
"I'm so sick of running away, Myrtle," Taffy said. "We do this like every week and the drama's starting to get to me. It's always this huge thing, with the cops involved, shoplifting and drugs and assaulting people and stuff. Why can't we just go home and watch TGIF like all the other kids at school?"
"Because those other kids are stupid," Myrtle said. "Are you coming or not?"
"I'm not," Taffy said. She sat down on the log and crossed her arms.
"Fine," Myrtle said. "I'll see you on the flip side. If I even survive." She started walking into the woods.
"Hold on!" Taffy started shouting two minutes later. "I'm coming too!"
Myrtle and Taffy spent that night high in the boughs of an ancient oak tree after eating a chicken that they'd taken from a small farm. The next morning they began their trek west.
Myrtle frantically rifled through the candy wrappers, BBs, and business cards in Taffy's pockets as Taffy's lips turned an alarming shade of blue. "I can't find it, Taff!" she yelled. "Don't die on me!"
"It's in my jacket, you idiot," Taffy whispered.
"I'm looking in your jacket, jerk," Myrtle said. "Fine." She got up and stomped away.
"Fine!" Taffy sputtered. "I'll find it myself!" She sat up and emptied out her pockets.
"Dagnabbit son of a guppy!" she yelled a few minutes later. "That dog must've gotten hold of it." She stood up, walked over to Myrtle, who was sitting on a log, and began kicking her in the shins.
"Knock it off," Myrtle said. Taffy kept on kicking. Myrtle stood up and pushed her away.
"Let's go," Myrtle said. "Our parents will be here any minute."
"I'm so sick of running away, Myrtle," Taffy said. "We do this like every week and the drama's starting to get to me. It's always this huge thing, with the cops involved, shoplifting and drugs and assaulting people and stuff. Why can't we just go home and watch TGIF like all the other kids at school?"
"Because those other kids are stupid," Myrtle said. "Are you coming or not?"
"I'm not," Taffy said. She sat down on the log and crossed her arms.
"Fine," Myrtle said. "I'll see you on the flip side. If I even survive." She started walking into the woods.
"Hold on!" Taffy started shouting two minutes later. "I'm coming too!"
Myrtle and Taffy spent that night high in the boughs of an ancient oak tree after eating a chicken that they'd taken from a small farm. The next morning they began their trek west.
Week four
It was a hot and sweaty night. Myrtle lay wide-eyed under her covers with only a nose-sized hole for ventilation. The cow lowed and snorted outside her window. Myrtle's manservant Buffingham had gone home to his family for the weekend, and so she was alone. What a fool she had been to grant him leave at such a time as this!
Next week: Myrtle's Halloween party is a raging success, until the DHS shows up!
Next week: Myrtle's Halloween party is a raging success, until the DHS shows up!
Week 3
The door burst open with hurricane force and the behemoth figure standing in the doorway was silhouetted by the blinding light of the coastal sunrise. The figure paused and then squealed.
"Oh my god! Myrtle? Oh my god!" And it squealed again, a noise that chilled Myrtle to her bones and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She took a step backward as the figure advanced toward her into the room. The face of the creature, although squashed and stretched in alarming ways, seemed vaguely familiar.
"Taffy?" Myrtle said quietly and tentatively.
The creature squealed again and then lunged at Myrtle, trapping her in a suffocating bear hug.
"Myrtle Jones, oh my god!" Taffy shrieked.
"Taffy Black, oh my god," Myrtle said, prying herself out of the embrace.
"It's Taffy Jones now, just like you!" Taffy convulsed into snorts and giggles.
"Oh, Taffy Jones, great." Myrtle wanted to leave but Taffy had her backed into a corner.
"Myrtle Jones, you're so funny. I remember how hilarious you were. Remember when your clarinet exploded and you killed that boy? Oh my god!"
"He didn't die, and it wasn't very funny."
"Oh yeah, I heard you got run out of town because of that. Eek. Sorry."
Next week: Myrtle and Taffy sit in an elegantly decorated room! Don't miss it!
"Oh my god! Myrtle? Oh my god!" And it squealed again, a noise that chilled Myrtle to her bones and raised the hairs on the back of her neck. She took a step backward as the figure advanced toward her into the room. The face of the creature, although squashed and stretched in alarming ways, seemed vaguely familiar.
"Taffy?" Myrtle said quietly and tentatively.
The creature squealed again and then lunged at Myrtle, trapping her in a suffocating bear hug.
"Myrtle Jones, oh my god!" Taffy shrieked.
"Taffy Black, oh my god," Myrtle said, prying herself out of the embrace.
"It's Taffy Jones now, just like you!" Taffy convulsed into snorts and giggles.
"Oh, Taffy Jones, great." Myrtle wanted to leave but Taffy had her backed into a corner.
"Myrtle Jones, you're so funny. I remember how hilarious you were. Remember when your clarinet exploded and you killed that boy? Oh my god!"
"He didn't die, and it wasn't very funny."
"Oh yeah, I heard you got run out of town because of that. Eek. Sorry."
Next week: Myrtle and Taffy sit in an elegantly decorated room! Don't miss it!
The exiciting dramatic tragic conclusion
The silence in the gymnasium was deafening after the cacophony of shrieks and screams and scrambles that had followed the frantic crowd outside.
Principal Fisker scowled as he pulled another black shard from the lifeless boy's leg. "The clarinet is an odious instrument," he hissed at Myrtle.
"But it's the gateway to the saxophone!" Myrtle protested.
"That's no excuse," said Principal Fisker, wiping his bloody hand on his pants. "Now, thanks to you, I'm going to have to call this boy's parents. And an ambulance." He exhaled loudly and dramatically and then marched out of the gymnasium.
"Come, Taffy," Mr. Black said.
"But my dress is ruined," Taffy said through her tears. "What will Mother say?"
"Don't worry about your dress," Mr. Black said. "We'll get you a new one. And Mother is dead, remember, honey?" He put his arm around his daughter and they headed for the double doors.
"Get that girl some counseling," someone yelled from a corner.
The circle of people who had remained inside stood staring at Myrtle. Myrtle stood staring at the shattered pieces of her clarinet. Finally, she bent down and started picking them up. "I will never play the clarinet again," she said sadly and softly.
"Obviously," someone said.
Principal Fisker scowled as he pulled another black shard from the lifeless boy's leg. "The clarinet is an odious instrument," he hissed at Myrtle.
"But it's the gateway to the saxophone!" Myrtle protested.
"That's no excuse," said Principal Fisker, wiping his bloody hand on his pants. "Now, thanks to you, I'm going to have to call this boy's parents. And an ambulance." He exhaled loudly and dramatically and then marched out of the gymnasium.
"Come, Taffy," Mr. Black said.
"But my dress is ruined," Taffy said through her tears. "What will Mother say?"
"Don't worry about your dress," Mr. Black said. "We'll get you a new one. And Mother is dead, remember, honey?" He put his arm around his daughter and they headed for the double doors.
"Get that girl some counseling," someone yelled from a corner.
The circle of people who had remained inside stood staring at Myrtle. Myrtle stood staring at the shattered pieces of her clarinet. Finally, she bent down and started picking them up. "I will never play the clarinet again," she said sadly and softly.
"Obviously," someone said.
Chapter one
Myrtle B. Jones wasn't the most popular girl in her eighth grade class but she certainly wasn't the least popular either. She was invited to parties at regular intervals, had the odd boyfriend or two, and was as knowledgeable about school gossip as anyone. She played volleyball, basketball, and softball – although not particularly well – and was second chair clarinet (out of 37 clarinetists) in the eighth grade band. She got good grades – mostly Bs with enough As thrown in to make her feel smug – and she rarely got in trouble at school.
Myrtle B. Jones's best friend was a girl named Taffy Black and if ever the word 'mousy' applied to anyone it applied to Taffy Black. While her name suggested someone with a certain amount of vibrance, poor Taffy Black was about as unvibrant as a person can get. She never laughed, she rarely smiled, and she only spoke to teachers, her priest, and Myrtle B. Jones. Her own parents hadn't heard her voice in almost two years, not since they'd tried to make her wear a dress to her sixth grade graduation ceremony. Taffy Black held terrible grudges, and she did not wear dresses.
Taffy Black was thin and a dingy shade of pale – Myrtle B. Jones was round and reddish and sort of shaped like a turtle. It was her sore spot, being called Myrtle the Turtle – but none of the kids had dared call her that (except behind her back) since first grade, when she'd punched two boys in the face for the offense. One boy's nose had been broken – he'd moved away the next year – and the other had a black eye for two weeks. Myrtle had mellowed out considerably in the seven years since, but her classmates would never forget, and each new kid was warned: "Don't call her Myrtle the Turtle! Just don't!"
Myrtle and Taffy had been best friends for a year and a half, since the great Best Friend Shuffle of sixth grade. Prior to that, Myrtle's best friend had been Sarah Barrera and Taffy's had been Bawbi Jo Walker. Now, Sarah was best friends with that snot Britney Whitney, and Bawbi Jo Walker was best friends with boys.
... Don't miss next week's episode: Myrtle and Taffy join a motorcycle gang!
Myrtle B. Jones's best friend was a girl named Taffy Black and if ever the word 'mousy' applied to anyone it applied to Taffy Black. While her name suggested someone with a certain amount of vibrance, poor Taffy Black was about as unvibrant as a person can get. She never laughed, she rarely smiled, and she only spoke to teachers, her priest, and Myrtle B. Jones. Her own parents hadn't heard her voice in almost two years, not since they'd tried to make her wear a dress to her sixth grade graduation ceremony. Taffy Black held terrible grudges, and she did not wear dresses.
Taffy Black was thin and a dingy shade of pale – Myrtle B. Jones was round and reddish and sort of shaped like a turtle. It was her sore spot, being called Myrtle the Turtle – but none of the kids had dared call her that (except behind her back) since first grade, when she'd punched two boys in the face for the offense. One boy's nose had been broken – he'd moved away the next year – and the other had a black eye for two weeks. Myrtle had mellowed out considerably in the seven years since, but her classmates would never forget, and each new kid was warned: "Don't call her Myrtle the Turtle! Just don't!"
Myrtle and Taffy had been best friends for a year and a half, since the great Best Friend Shuffle of sixth grade. Prior to that, Myrtle's best friend had been Sarah Barrera and Taffy's had been Bawbi Jo Walker. Now, Sarah was best friends with that snot Britney Whitney, and Bawbi Jo Walker was best friends with boys.
... Don't miss next week's episode: Myrtle and Taffy join a motorcycle gang!
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