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The Munched-Up Flower Garden [for educational use, please contact Rights@RedRockPress.com] By Nancy Kelly Allen Narrator Aunt Pearl (Liz’s aunt) Sallie Young (girl who is also growing a flower garden) Dean (Liz’s brother) James (Liz’s best friend) Mr. Dobson (announcer) Mom (Liz’s mother) Dad (Liz’s father) Liz:
I was so bottled up inside I could chew iron and spit nails. My flower
garden was gone and so was my chance of winning a blue ribbon. I cut loose with
a squall that would knock your socks off: EEEEEEEEEEEE!!! Narrator: Aunt Pearl came running from next door. Aunt Pearl: Well, do tell! Liz Reilly, whatever is that racket? Liz: S-s-s-somebody’s goat munched-up m-m-my flower garden. Narrator: Liz couldn’t hold back the tears. Even Aunt Pearl’s hug didn’t plug the flood. Liz: I know that somebody. Sallie Young¾she is the no-account one who owns that no-good munch-y goat! Narrator: It all had started back in the spring. Liz plucked seeds from Aunt Pearl’s stash. Seeds she didn’t already have, like impatiens and petunias. Aunt Pearl: Sweat and toil. And a little sweet talk. That’s what it takes to win a blue ribbon for your flower garden at the annual Troublesome Creek picnic. Liz: I planted, seed by seed. I watered, drop by drop. Then I waited, minute by minute. Hour by hour. Day by day. My plants were not in any all-fired hurry to grow. I tried to sweet talk my seeds, but after two weeks of being nice, I told them if they wanted another drink from me, they’d better show me something! Narrator: Liz’s threat must have worked ’cause two days later she saw a little green leaf, knee-high to a grasshopper. Liz: WHOOOOOOWEE!!! Wouldn’t you know, my squeal woke my little brother, Dean? He’s bee-stung-bulldog contrary when he wakes up early from a nap. Narrator: Out Dean stomped, lip dropped low enough to step on. Liz: Mom blamed me for waking him. Narrator: And to heap on the misery, up marched Sallie Young. Liz: She reminded me she had won a blue ribbon for the best flower garden four years running, just in case I’d forgot. No such luck. Sallie: What are you looking at? Liz: My flower. Sallie: Where? Narrator: Liz thought Sallie must be blind as midnight. Dean: Where? Narrator: Dean added his two-cents worth. Liz wondered whose side was he on, anyway. Liz: (pointing) There! Sallie: My flowers are already blooming. Narrator: Sallie wheeled around and left. Liz: (whispering) Good riddance. Narrator: Liz whispered to her cat, Scarface. Dean: Mom says if you can’t say something nice about somebody, don’t say anything. Liz: I looked at my brother and said nothing. But my look must have said plenty. He hightailed it back in the house. Narrator: Soon sprouts were popping up left and right. Liz gave the thirsty petunias a drink, weeded the impatiens, and talked to the marigolds. Sweet talk. Aunt Pearl: I do declare. Liz, your flowers are a sight for sore eyes. Narrator: Sallie kept coming around, all regular like. Liz: You’d think I actually wanted to hear about her blue-ribbon blooms. Sallie: My garden is the prettiest on Troublesome Creek. Liz: Just as I opened my mouth to give her my not-too-pretty opinion, I spied Mom at the screened-in door. I had nothing to say to Sallie. My best friend James¾from just four houses down Troublesome Creek¾finally got his sorry self over to my garden to admire it plenty. James: Liz, you’ve got one eye-popper of a garden. Liz: I was feeling fit as a fiddle until I saw that Sallie had planted her feet in my garden. Again! Narrator: Sallie swung her beak to let Liz know she wasn’t done pecking. Sallie: (bragging) I haven’t decided where I’ll hang my blue ribbon this year. My wall is getting crowded with them. Liz: Yep, I thought, this garden is getting very crowded with you in it. I had nothing to say to Sallie, but I did make a scrunch face. Mom never had said nothing about faces. Narrator: Picnic morning Liz leaped out of bed to make one last check on her flowers before the judges showed up. Liz: EEEEEEEEEEEE!!! (Upset) A splatter of impatiens. A clump of marigolds. Two half-eaten petunias, bent double. Narrator: Faster than a rip of lightning, Aunt Pearl bolted into Liz’s laid-low garden to hug her tight. Mom and Dean showed up, too. Liz: Dean saw my tears and offered me his slightly chewed gum. Dean: It’s still sweet. Narrator: Mom
gave Liz a humongous hug. Liz: I’d bet my last sour lemon drop Sallie Young hogtied Mr. Goatee and pulled him over here just to cost me my blue ribbon. Narrator: At the picnic Liz dragged herself up to take her turn in the skip-stone contest. She skipped the stones, at least she tried to, over Troublesome Creek. Liz: Usually, I throw a wicked stone, if I do say so myself. But today, my heart wasn’t in it. No skip. No prize. Narrator: Liz watched James run the half-mile race. James can sure make the dust fly as he picks ’em up and puts ’em down. He won a blue ribbon. Liz: (a low yell) WHOOOOOOWEE, James!!! Narrator: Maybe it wasn’t Liz’s loudest yell ever, maybe it wasn’t a next-county scream, but it was a pretty darn-good shout for a gal whose garden had been laid low. Liz: I was happy for James. Truly. Narrator: After all the kids gobbled up hotdogs and gingerbread, everyone got a raffle ticket. Mr. Dobson climbed on the stage to draw numbers from a huge old-time milk jar. Aunt Pearl: (loud whisper) That was my jar! Earl Dobson bought it off me in the last yard sale. Remember? Narrator: Liz nodded. Mr. Dobson: Number fifteen! Narrator: Liz checked her ticket. It still said: 86. Liz: Carolyn, who I like pretty well, won a doll with a hank of orange yarn hair. More numbers were called, but me and luck had done parted company while the sun was still too busy coming up to shine my way. Narrator: Garden judging was up next. Sallie: I’ve won blue ribbons four year’s running for the best flower garden. Liz: Sallie announced this in case somebody new had moved into our neck of the woods in the last five minutes. Mom: Next year you’ll win for sure. Dad: For certain and for sure. Liz: I swiped her eyes with the back of my hand. James offered me his blue ribbon he won at the foot race. Narrator: Mr. Dobson fixed two crates on the stage and climbed on ‘em to make himself higher. That was the signal that whatever he had to announce was no-nonsense, just plain serious business. Mr. Dobson: Our committee judged the gardens yesterday. Best Flower Garden goes to… Liz: I heard my named called: Liz Reilly! Mr. Dobson: Liz’s garden was decided the best. And this first-place ribbon belongs to her. Liz: My feet couldn’t stand still. James: WHOOODEE!! Dean: Yea! Lizzie. That my sissy! Narrator: Liz stumbled up on the stage to get the biggest blue ribbon of all.
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