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A Can of Worms
Lucy let the screen door slam as she hurtled herself into the kitchen, "Grandma! Grandma! Lonnie and Cissy is out behind the hen house and they're playing nasty!"
Grandma was canning string beans, the kitchen hot as hell, but swamp wet. Sweat ran down her face, and channeled off the creases of her three chins, staining her flower-print house dress as dark around the neck as it was under her ham-hock arms.
"Lucy, 'less you wanna start sterilizing jar lids for me, you better mind your own business and get outside and play. Leave Lonnie be. Don't go opening no can of worms!" She heaved a rack of sealed quart jars out of the kettle and set it on a towel on the counter.
Lucy knew better than to talk back. "No, ma'am. I mean, yes ma'am!" She wanted no part of the canning work. She'd go play in the orchard, but first, she wanted to check the pantry. Did her Grandma can worms too? She'd never heard of those before, and hoped that Grandma hadn't been sneaking them into the tuna casseroles.
