PEGGY BEVERLY

I awoke by a rippling creek in the woods.

My dog Boris was asleep resting on my outstretched legs.

As I looked up, peeking out at me, from behind an old wooden desk was a set of big brown eyes.

“Good morning” she said.

“Or perhaps I should say afternoon. You’ve been sleeping there for quite a while.”

Now the fact that the big brown eyes belonged to a light brown cow with a dark brown cowlick atop her head set off by long black eyelashes and bright red lips wearing blue denim overalls didn’t puzzle me as much as the old grey steel Royal typewriter and the black rotary phone she was just picking up to answer.

“Thought Pasture, Moos-room”, she said as she took off her cow-tag earring and began her conversation. She was sitting on a green leather chair that sat on a swivel base with wheels. “And where did you say the goat was seen last?” She swiveled in the chair, looked over at me, covered the receiver and said to me in a whisper. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll be with in in just a minute.”

Boris my curly black poodle seemed unfazed and laid his head back down to return to sleep. I raised myself to a sitting position and leaned back against the old maple tree I had been sleeping under. Looking to my left I noticed a big old round Bulova clock wedged against a book titled Vermont Wild tucked away in a wrought iron basket.

It was quite green and lush all around me. Shafts of sunlight shot down and through the trees in these strange woods were I found myself.

I was barefoot and covered by an old worn quilt made of leaves. Despite the fact I had no idea how I came to be here, I was quite comfortable. Just to the left of the desk hanging from a tree was an old black and white photo of my father in his uniform sitting at his desk an open folder on his lap.

“Sorry about that. I’d been waiting for that call and I just had to take it.

This is my time to make beat calls to find out what’s happening.”

Oh, I said. Ok. Where am I?

“Well, you’re right here silly.” said the cow. “Are you hungry? Or would you like some coffee? I know I could use a cup. Cream?” she said over her shoulder as she got up from the chair and walked off. “I know I take cream in mine. It just adds a certain ‘je ne said quoi’ don’t you think?”

At this point Boris got up stretched out long and turned around. He then sat back down placing his paws on me as he yawned, tucked his curly head into my chest and went back to sleep. He didn’t seem at all curious about this place.

He was with me. That was all that mattered.

On the desk beside the typewriter was a nameplate which read, PEGGY BEVERLY.

Just then the cow walked back in carrying two large mugs of coffee.

She placed one on a stone near me and said. “A cup just isn’t enough for me. I need a mug in the morning. So what brings you and your side kick to the Pasture?”

I have no idea, I said, taking a sip from the mug.

Oh my god that is good. I said.

“It’s the cream. The cream makes it.” Said the cow, who I now assumed was Peggy Beverly.

Where exactly is this ‘RIGHT HERE’? I asked, knowing from my first try I needed to be more specific with my inquiry.

Peggy Beverly looked at me with her big brown eyes and a quizzical tilt of her head. “Really?” she said. “Well, let’s check.” She said taking a sip of her coffee. “You are talking to a cow sitting in a green leather chair in front of a desk with a typewriter and a phone in the middle of the woods on a beautiful day and that’s your question? Really?”

Well, what is the right question? I asked.

“What do you want to know?” said Peggy Beverly.

Am I dreaming? I said.

“Well of course you are.”

Ah. Ok. Now this makes sense.

So Peggy Beverly, that is you right, I saw the name plate.

“The one and only. My mother, and you might find this odd, but my mother loved Peanut Butter. She used to keep a private stash in the pasture near the stone wall.

When I was born she was so exhausted, that when they asked her what my name would be, she simply uttered P.B. meaning peanut butter, of course but, then she fell right to sleep.

My father was not quite sure what she meant, because as I said she hid her peanut butter. So, when pressed by the delivery nurse for what the P.B. stood for he said Peggy Beverly. You see he had grown up on a farm. And on that farm lived two sisters, one blond and one with brown hair and they were always so nice to him. Anyway their names were Peggy and Beverly. And that’s my story.”

Well what did your mother say when she woke up and found out your name was Peggy Beverly?

“I think she was just so pleased I was healthy and that I’d blinked at her with my big brown eyes that she didn’t care.”

THE END

For now