Marisol's Later Life

Marisol put on her dance sweater and skirt, gathered up her things, and headed out of the studio. It was a sunny day in Chicago, but the wind off Lake Michigan gave a crisp chill to the air. Everything in Marisol's life felt perfect. Sure, she was like any normal person and had to worry about paying bills, cooking, cleaning, and most importantly, dancing. She about to audition for the New York City Rockettes, but she still had a soft spot for ballet. Her professional training could only help in her ascension to fame. These happy thought swirled around in Marisol's head as she walked home. As she was walking, something caught her attention. It was a fluffy, dirty kitten peeking out of a storm drain.

"Aww, you poor little thing!" Marisol cooed. She knelt down to see the cat, which crawled out timidly.

"You remind me of my old cat, Rascal," she told the kitten as he circled around her. Marisol began the stifle a few tears. Her childhood cat, Rascal, had been put down a few years ago due to stomach cancer. Marisol was happy he wasn't suffering, but putting down the cat you grew up with is hard to do. The kitten came up next to Mari and nuzzled against her leg.

"I'll take you home, ok? You sweet little fuzzball!" she exclaimed, not thinking before scooping the cat up and continuing on her way home. Mostly because of her nostalgic feelings towards fluffy little kittens. Marisol kept walking home with the warm little bundle of joy. The cat purred softly. On the rest of the path home, she didn't see anything else unusual, which was a relief. That is, until she got home. Marisol was surprised to see a middle aged woman with blunt cut blonde hair and a stern expression on the doorstep of her quaint little home.

"Hello, how may I help you?" Marisol asked as she came to the steps, balancing the cat. The woman smiled.

"Hello. I'm Blanche Palmer. I am Isabelle Palmer's mother." she said.

"Oh! I think I saw something in the news about her..." Marisol said.

"Yes. Well, the news headlines tend to... stretch the truth," Blanche said. Marisol was skeptical.

"Erm, what do you mean by that?" she asked.

"Well, the headlines say my daughter flung herself out of a window over being detained, but the truth is that the guard caused her distress by telling her the news of her father's disappearance, and she simply couldn't go on without him!" Blanche worked up a few tears. NOW Marisol remembered who the Palmers were, and she internally rolled her eyes.

"I hate to be rude, but what is it you want?" she asked.

"A donation. To the Palmer Society of Children's Mental Well-Being. Or, for short, the PSCMWB," Blanche stated proudly. At this point, Marisol had forgotten about the fluffy little kitty in her arms; she was so annoyed by this mellow dramatic dance mom coming and begging for money. Mari had a hunch that any donations would NOT be going toward the "Palmer Society of Children's Mental Well-Being" or whatever.

"Well, I'm a little short on funds now, and I don't get paid until Friday..." Marisol quickly thought up a little lie.

"That's ok! I can ask you workplace to donate! All donations are tax-deductable, don't you know?" Blanche said.

"Oh no, that's quite alright," Marisol pushed past the woman to get to her front door. The little cat in her arms chose that moment to leap to freedom. It was then that Blanche remembered her cat allergy. Marisol, using the diversion to her aid, silently said goodbye to the kitten and slammed the door. Blanche screamed.

"Help! Somebody help me! Help!" she squealed as the cat danced around her. It ran off, and Blanche breathed a sigh of relief. However, the cat positioned itself on the top rail of Marisol's porch, ready to pounce. Blanche slowly turned around, and then, her sqeals were drowned out by the fluffball tackling her and scratching her face. Marisol watched the horror unfold from the comfort of her couch, yet had enough sympathy to call 911 after the animal scurried off.

In Loving Memory of Blanche Palmer

Blanche Palmer, age 42, was pronounced dead at 9:42 am this morning due to a violent case of rabies. She was a loved and cherished member of the Palmer family, and will be missed by many. Her will stated that her obituary be published in the national paper and state the following:

"Have pity on my poor soul! Think of the daughter and husband I lost to seemingly unknown reasons. Think of how my eldest daughter, Jade Palmer, will accomplish great things and none of us will have lived to see them! Donate to the Palmer Society of Children's Mental Well-Being to help other families that were like ours.

~Blanche B. Palmer"

April 21, 2021

Marisol nearly spat out her coffee upon reading Blanche's obituary. The nerve of that woman, even posthumously! Sure it had been a while since their "tragic" meeting, but she still replayed their conversation in her head. However, now Marisol learned a valuable lesson: never pick random animals up on the side of the street, no matter how nostalgia clouds your vision.