Frank's Independence Day Chapter 2: Lucille's Independence Day, a janet evanovich fanfic

Again, all the characters belong to Janet Evanovich... All mistakes are mine. I know, I mangled a perfectly good song that belongs to Martina MccBride, too!

Lucille's Independence Day

If you've lived in the Chambersburg section of Trenton long enough, odds are you've been the subject of the Burg Grapevine at least once. Trust me when I say that I know this for a fact. My name is Lucille Plum, and I have a permanent spot on the gossip circuit. It's not my fault. I just happen to be married to Vincent Plum.

If you want to know the truth, I love my husband. Don't get me wrong, he's not easy to love. In fact, there are people who would say that Vincent Plum is a boil on the backside of humanity. The ultimate insult in Trenton is to say that you wouldn't touch someone with Vinnie's dick. Despite this, he's mine and I love him.

I would and have forgiven my husband for a lot of things. Does he really think that I believe he subscribes to Farm Animal Resource Magazine because he's interested in ranching? I don't have the heart to tell him, but I know the definition of animal husbandry, and it's not that.

I even know about the women. Trust me, there's nothing that Joyce Barnhardt will do with him that I even want to think about doing. I don't want him to know what I know, so every now and then I "catch" him misbehaving and make him suffer for it. Believe me, it keeps him in line.

All that is beside the point. I could put up with those busybodies talking about my husband, even if I didn't like it. After all, most of those stories end in the words, "Lucille must be a saint to put up with him." What I will absolutely NOT stand for is Helen Plum telling people that the lasagna I brought to the last family get together was dry.

Now it's time to teach those busybodies a lesson, and I know just how to do it. Next weekend is the Fourth of July celebration, and anybody who's anybody will be at the park to celebrate.

This year we'll have our customary parade in the morning. Everybody will go home to barbeque, then they'll all head to the park to socialize and be entertained by the bands. They're even having a karaoke contest. I hope they like the latest contestant.

I locked myself in our house for days composing and rearranging the song to my liking.

By the time we made it to the park, I was all but bouncing with excitement. I went to the registration table and gave them the forms that I had filled out, laughing to myself the entire time.

I had an attack of nerves while I was waiting backstage, but the second they announced my name, I walked out with my head held high. You should have seen the looks on their faces once they realized that I wasn't exactly singing the words to the song.

(Original song: Independence Day by Martina McBride)

Well she seemed all right all her wash is quite white
but her boys make her look like a clown
She tried to pretend all those girls were just friends
and the youngest still won't settle down
He was only eight years old that summer
when he talked her into getting his way
and they always blamed her, although he acted like a turd
on Independence Day

Well word gets around in this small small town
they say he is a perverted man
although he is their boss neither one's at a loss
to spread rumors whenever they can
Some folks whispered and some folks talked
But everybody looked the other way
when her mustache bleach ran out, or the spandex blew out
On Independence Day

Let Freedom Ring, let the white dove sing
Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning
Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong
Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay Burg Independence Day

By the time the lyrics sank in to everyone in the park, Angie Morelli had fainted, and Connie Rizzoli was looking for a place to hide.

Well she lit up the sky like the Fourth of July
with breath at least one hundred proof
She thinks one daughter's a saint and the other one ain't
and life is perfect under her roof
Now I'm not saying she's right or she's wrong
But maybe it's the other way
Talk about my revolution
It's Independence Day

The best part, though was the fact that Helen Plum was singing right along with the rest of the audience. I think she was too drunk to understand.

Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay, Burg Independence Day

When Vinnie and I got home that night, I was giddy with Delight. The editor of the Trenton Times announced to the crowd that I was the winner and asked me for a copy of the lyrics. I get to ride in a convertible in next year's parade as "The Karaoke Queen". We walked into our kitchen and Vinnie picked me up and spun me around. He planted a kiss on my lips and said, "Happy Independence Day"