Minty Fresh

So there's this little girl, about 8 years old I'd guess (based on way too many years in elementary education), who lives somewhere in our neighborhood. I suspect she is the daughter of the guy with the big scary dog and even scarier attitude: "Hi, I'm your new neighbor," smile and shuffle. "uh, yah," look me up and down and spit. She's the granddaughter of the scary man's mom who I couldn't help but overhear screaming at the little girl one evening for playing with her friends too long.

Anyway, this little girl comes by our house periodically. She came by one evening about two months ago to ask us if we wanted the puppy in her arms (a sweet little pit-bull). "No thanks, but where'd you get it?" "Oh just got it the other day, but its not working out. Ya sure you don't want it?" She came back a few weeks later to show us her new puppy, a pug. I guess that one worked out better.

She also comes by to play with the kids who don't live here anymore. I guess she gets lonely.

Well, tonight just as it was getting dark, I noticed her standing at the edge of the street holding a basket with both hands. "oh no," I thought, "not another puppy." But no. After we put Emma in the house, she walked up and asked, "Would you like some tea? I made it myself, from leaves in my yard, Minty Fresh!"

I looked over into her basket in the ugly orange glow of our too bright (that's another story) street light. She had rows of dixie cups (you know, the swirl and spit type from the dentist's) half-filled with what looked like overcooked spinach, snails included, barely covered in murky water. I immediately recoiled from the whole scene and gratefully redirected her to my "tea drinking pal." Clever no? Not only did I not have to look at the disgusting soup, but I didn't even need to lie about not having any money to buy it with. That's right, this gross concoction, which didn't even smell of mint, was for sale. Clever girl.

Poor Al. He doesn't even like tea. I watched with great curiosity. Would the girl prevail on my soft hearted pal? Would he actually pay her for her potion? Would he even go so far as to taste the yucky brew? Ah, but this is where Al is infinitely smarter than me. He asked, "How much is your tea?" And the little girl in a very sweet voice says, "Its just three dollars." At that point I noticed the substantial roll of bills clutched in her hand - she'd been making the rounds all evening. I suspect this was her second or third batch for the night!

Suffice it to say that little girl had met her match in Al. He smiled and dug around in his pockets (I was wearing PJ's, obviously no cash) and said, "I'm sorry, all I have is a penny." The little girl paused for a moment, and then asked, "Do you think your next-door neighbors would like some tea." We both smiled and assured her that indeed they loved tea, and ran inside.