Hello There, We've Been Waiting for You!. Laurie B. Arnold

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       Chapter Four

      I could tell this was kind of a holy moment for Florida. She pulled out a can of Orchid Oasis room freshener.

      “Let’s welcome the new TV with the divine scent of happiness.”

      And then she sprayed.

      I remember smelling a real orchid once. It was the prettiest flower I’d ever seen. I’d leaned in to take a whiff and expected the scent of something wonderful, but it smelled exactly like—nothing. My mom said it was a good reminder that pretty on the outside doesn’t always mean pretty on the inside.

      Florida’s Orchid Oasis spray didn’t smell a bit like orchids. More like a public restroom that got cleaned up with sweet perfumey stuff after someone threw up in the toilet.

      “Let’s take this TV for a test drive.” She patted the spot beside her on the sofa.

      I sat down and watched her fingers work lightning-fast on the remote. In record speed she figured out how to get six shopping channels on the TV at once.

      “My mission is to buy six fabulous things from six shopping shows in ten minutes. Here’s the stopwatch. Ready? Go!”

      I pushed the silver button on the stopwatch, and Florida flew into action. She punched in phone numbers for the shopping shows even faster than she’d worked the remote control. She knew them all by heart.

      The first thing she bought was from the Home Shopping Channel. It was a blender powerful enough to grind a G.I. Joe into dust. Why anyone would ever need to do that, I haven’t a clue.

      The next three items she purchased? Two cases of Sunflower Blond hair dye; a Hamdogger, which made hamburgers in the shape of hot-dogs; and a ceramic poodle for her collection. Where would she even put that poodle? Her shelves were already bursting with them.

      “Time check,” Florida said.

      “Three and a half minutes to go.” Three and a half minutes until I could go back in my room for the rest of the day.

      “Ooh! Melt Away Your Wrinkles face cream!”

      She called the Beauty Channel and ordered about a zillion cases of the stuff.

      “Now we’ll have enough for both of us,” she said.

      “I don’t have wrinkles. I’m eleven.”

      “It’s never too early to start taking care of your complexion, dear.”

      I was pretty sure I was trapped in a nightmare.

      And the final thing she bought? A giant bag of hair bows.

      “We’ve got to do something about that hair of yours, honey,” she said as she made the phone call.

      What is it about my hair? The last time my grandmother commented about it was at Violet’s house, right before my mom’s funeral. “Madison, darling,” she’d said. “You’ve grown so much. I wouldn’t have recognized you, except for that stick-straight mouse-brown hair!”

      I hadn’t known what to say. Given the situation, I was already sad enough without having to hear that. Besides, I like my hair. It is exactly the same as my mom’s.

      “Cool it, Florida,” Grandpa Jack had said.