A/N: The long promised (been working on it since a year and a half, been promising to Beta/edit and post since Christmas) Ducky and Sandy story is up! People Who Enjoy Meetings Should Not Be In Charge of Anything is complete, and 1-4 chapters will post every weekend. Phantom of the Paradise is blocked and started and should be posted by Christmas. Really. Maybe. I hope.

Okay, you really need to knock of the sarcastic laughter.

April, 2014

Very Funny, Scotty. Now Beam Down My Clothes.

Mother is on a roll. Literally.

She normally uses a cane to get around, even on her walks around the block. It's slow going, but we aren't looking to set an Olympic record, so who cares?

It was a different scenario when we went shopping. Unless we were just running to the store for one or two things, she would borrow one of the carts and tool around. She refused to get a cart of her own, saying it would make her look old—but she had no problem using one. It made no sense to me, but plenty of things in Mother's universe don't; this was just one more for the list.

We muddled along with this odd split for several years—until 2014.

The month before Mother's Day, Lexi's Girl Scout troop was taking part in a Mother's Day crafts expo at the mall. They weren't selling already made items; they had a booth where kids could create a handmade item for mom, grandma, or other 'mom' figure. Lexi's group was doing t-shirts with handprint-flowers. The girls were helping the kids create the gardens; the adults controlled the mess. (Another group was making pincushions out of canning jar lids and fabric scraps; a third had stamp pads, stampers and blank greeting cards; the next table was taking pictures of the kids and gluing them to magnetized calendars; there were are least a dozen booths and tables—possibly more.)

Lexi and I were on the morning shift: set up from 7:00 to 8:00, helping from 8:00 to10:00. Mother was coming in with Suzy and Ducky after 10:00 so she could 'help' Lexi make her Mother's Day gift/s (and I made myself scarce).

About ten 'til ten I got a text: Parking now, be there soon. I knew the drill—drop off Suzy and Mother by the entrance, park in a handicapped spot (even cutting off 200 feet helped), rent a cart, bring it back to Mother and Suzy and tool down the main corridor to where we were set up. It would have been faster to come in the middle entrance, but there were rental kiosks at the two end entrances, none in the middle. Logical they weren't.

I parked us out of the main traffic—coincidentally in front of The Pretzel Palace. We sat on the bench, tearing into giant soft pretzels, watching the traffic and waiting for the rest of the family. I didn't reasonably expect them before quarter past.

At quarter past Ducky—only Ducky—arrived. And, boy, did he look irritated.

"One cart available. Only one! I got it out to Mother, we barely made it through Sears and into the mall proper when it ceased functioning. I manhandled it back to the station—they're incredibly hard to move with no power—and they discovered the battery didn't charge overnight. I'm hoping to find another—" He tipped his head toward the other end of the mall.

"Okay, I said affably. Our day wasn't written in stone.

Ducky headed off in the opposite direction and Lexi and I added corn dog poppers to our mid morning snack. Twenty minutes later, Ducky was back.

Without a cart.

"Every blasted cart is in use or out of commission."

My heart sank a little. Mayfair Mart is a huge place. Not as big as Mall of America (or even Tyson's Corner down the way), but it was still a long hike from one end to the other, well over a quarter mile, maybe even half. It would be dinnertime by the time Victoria joined us.

When we all got back to Suzy and Victoria, Ducky explained the jazzy cart situation—and Victoria had a royal fit. She argued long and hard, but we had no options. "I can't wave a magic wand and make one appear," Ducky said patiently.

Lexi tried consoling Mother, telling her the craft fair was going on the next weekend as well and we could come back.

"But there aren't any carts!"

"That's just today," Lexi said. "I'm sure there will be plenty of them next time."

Rash promise. Ducky and I exchanged uncomfortable looks. We know Murphy's Law—and it always works against us.

"You know, Victoria…" Suzy had on her 'I'm going to win you over with logic' look. "You might want to consider buying one of those carts for yourself."

"Pah! I'm not an old woman!"

"Oh, no, not even close. But it you have your own cart, it won't matter if they're all rented. Just for backup. Plus—" She glanced around and leaned in, 'sharing a secret.' "Some of them have really uncomfortable seats here."

Victoria narrowed her eyes. "True," she admitted.

"If you get your own cart… they might be able to find a purple one to match your computer." Suzy is good.

Victoria brightened considerably. Lexi grabbed her hand. "And even it it's not, we could paint it!"

Sold.

We stopped at a medical supply house on the way home and found a stunning number in sparkling purple and easily made room in the garage for the new baby and her charger.

The following weekend we did a repeat performance. This time, Victoria led the parade, flag literally fluttering behind her. (She had replaced the bright orange triangle with a purple double tail banner, complete with a refraction tape unicorn and rainbow.) Our shift was at the end of the day, so Mother had plenty of time to 'help' Lexi make her gifts.

If she lived so long.

As we zipped past Spencer's—home of questionable products and questionable customers (including me)—she caught sight of a group of kids with even more questionable taste in clothing. One apparently scandalized her in particular—and before we knew what she was doing, she rolled up to a young lad and 'whispered,' "Young man! Young man!" When he turned to look at her, baffled, she continued in a not even remotely sotto voce, "Your panties are showing!"

Yeah, his jeans were hanging somewhere between the bottom of his butt cheeks and his knees, showing off plaid boxers for the world to enjoy. It's a teen thing, one that baffles me.

Ducky groaned. Lexi giggled. I just waited for the gang war to erupt.

The young man with the questionable BVDs turned a furious red. "It's how it is," he managed to get out.

Victoria 'tsk'd' and looked at the girl beside him. "If a young man is careless in his mode of dress, he has no respect for himself—or his young lady." Having given her Miss Manners lecture for the day, she twisted the handle and jetted away.

The girl was sharper than her boyfriend and looked thoughtful. "You do look like a two year old dragging a poopy diaper."

He turned even redder. "You never said nothin' before!"

Yeah, and Mary Morstanhad to put up with 'bristly kisses' until Sherlock came back in town and goaded John Watson into shaving off his dreadful moustache.

She pushed him toward Spencer's door. "Go buy a belt. Or suspenders. Or something. Meet me at McDonald's. I'll even buy lunch if you stop looking so stupid." Her glance around the group included the other young men in equally iffy dress. The other young girls were looking at her with approval—and at the guys with a 'well?' subtitle.

Mother (and Suzy) had only gotten a coupe of stores away when we caught up with her. The 'young lady' hurried to catch Victoria.

"Ma'am? I just want to say thank you. I've been bugging him forever. But he actually listened to you! You're like my Grammy, she can make anyone do anything." With a sunny smile, she dashed off toward the food court.

"Such a nice girl," Victoria said, nodding. Then she sighed heavily. "What a shame she looks like a lady of the evening with all that makeup."

Something tells me that critique wouldn't have gone over as well as the comment about the plaid panties.