Three Words: Free, limp, reason

Liesel stared at the rolls on the back of Mrs. Davenport's neck. Thick, like a 100-year-old oak, and starting to sag in all the wrong places, Mrs. Davenport was not a woman to trifle with. And she stood between Liesel and the free raffle table at the Mason County Fair--largest in three states.  

This year's prizes included a hand crafted rocker donated by Mr. Davenport, a years worth of strawberry preserves donated by the ladies of the Union Street Baptist Church, and a three month session of driving lessons, donated by Scooter McVey. Liesel hopped and shifted to the right and caught a glimpse of Scooter in the gap between Mrs. Davenport's body and the limp folds flapping on the back of her arm as she filled out yet another ticket.

"I declare, I hope someone deserving wins that chair," she said importantly as she dropped the small blue ticket into the gallon sized mason jar. 

Scooter smiled indulgently. "Surely, Mrs. D., you know that whoever the good Lord sees fit to have it will be the winner." 

"Oh, yes, child. I'm not one to argue with the reasons of the All Mighty." The words all and mighty came out close together as is tradition amongst the righteous in the south. Almighty.

Scooter's perfect white Chicklet teeth sparkled. Liesel wanted to trace them with her tongue and hoped her mama was wrong about God being able to read her thoughts. No way would He see fit to win her those driving lessons if He knew about the thoughts she was having about Scooter McVey and the drastic state of her underwear as a result.