Thursday, September 04, 2003

vignette: poor, poor luisa

Luisa was a sad little girl, sadder than you can imagine.

She cried every night because she missed her mother. She cried every night because she missed her father.

Luisa was an orphan. She felt she was all alone in the world.

Poor, poor Luisa.

Luisa lived with her old, old Aunt, who was older than you can imagine. But she loved Luisa more than you can believe.

“I know you miss your parents, Luisa,” the old Aunt said. “But you are not alone, I love you.”

And Luisa would stop crying and make a little half-smile at her old, old Aunt. But deep in her heart, she still felt miserable and alone.

Poor, poor Luisa.

One day, her old, old Aunt told Luisa she had to go to city for a few weeks.

“I promise to be back soon,” the old Aunt told her. “In the meantime, your Aunt Antonia will stay here with you in my house, make sure that you’re fed and bathed, and watch your favorite TV shows with you.”

“Oh,” cried Luisa, “But I do not even know Aunt Antonia!”

“You will get to know her,” her old Aunt said as she embraced Luisa tighter than you can imagine. Then she said goodbye.

But deep in her heart, Luisa was afraid.

What if she’s mean to me? What if she’s unkind?

Poor, poor Luisa.

When Aunt Antonia rang the doorbell, Luisa didn’t want to answer it.

Maybe if she’ll just go away, poor Luisa thought to herself.

But the doorbell kept ringing and ringing and ringing. Luisa, who was well-mannered, finally opened the door.

Standing outside was a woman, but the thinnest, ugliest, hairiest woman you can imagine.

She was so thin that her clothes were clipped to her shoulders with paperclips. She was so ugly that the warts on her nose had pimples growing on them. She was so hairy that her black, black hair trailed all the way back into the street – it was longer than you can believe.

“Hello, Luisa,” Aunt Antonia said in a voice that sounded like a cat scratching against a blackboard.

“Hello, Aunt Antonia,” replied Luisa in a voice that shook like a coconut tree in a typhoon.

Then Aunt Antonia walked into the house, dragging her long, long hair with her thin, thin arms and squinting her tiny, tiny eyes as she did so.

Poor Luisa trembled with fear.

She looks like a witch, Luisa thought to herself. What shall I do? What shall I do?

Poor, poor Luisa.


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