Mrs H closes her eyes, the prison issue towel tight around her shoulders, she looks around at the cell then down at her orange jumpsuit.   Sheesh!  How did this happen?  But there she is.   

Since the mysterious disappearance of Mr H,  Mrs H’s finances have tanked, her income barely enough to keep up with living expenses.  Luxuries were out. 

One fateful day Mrs H made up her mind to get over to Staples where she had a credit card in order to make a tiny purchase.  She needed batteries for her TV remote. *Anyone can understand that, she thinks.  For two weeks, she had been unable to shut off the TV because she couldn’t find the control buttons.  They had bought one of those black functional things and crazy as it was, she couldn't find any nobs or buttons to control it, only the remote which without batteries was entirely useless. 

*(anyone except the judge)

What made matters worse, the TV was stuck on the home shopping network.  And it was depressing her, this endless loops of gorgeous models parading around in pale pink mohair and thick warm robes, pretty items she could no longer afford (and on sale, no less).  She couldn’t change the channel so the situation had become dire.  Meat, she could live without, but this torture was more than any human could stand!  

She longed for the good old days when she was a normal married woman with a little spare cash.  The visit to the brightly and shiny red megastore was a pleasant reminder of how relaxing it was to shop, so she took her time, inspecting everything she saw, each tin of popcorn, all the pastel colored desk chairs,  every new camera and telephone, touching and looking and enjoying.

Finding them on the display wall, Mrs H put the batteries in the child seat in her cart where she had put her purse and continued walking up and down the aisles.  This had become such a fun exercise for herself as she walked along, placing pretty items in the cart, going a bit further and seeing something new, putting it in the basket and placing something else back on the shelf.  It was a fun way to pass the time without feeling left out.  This was the worst about her new Mr H-less life: a feeling that she was left out of everything. 

She slowly walked up and down the aisles quietly humming and looking, as unknown to her, the right hand had become very very busy, itchy fingers creeping towards the package of batteries.  Her left hand distracted her by picking up a sparkling lime green cell phone cover while her right quickly slipped the batteries deep inside her purse.  It would seem her hands had colluded to become a team of slick shoplifters! 

As luck would have it, this little stroll through the store had become of interest to a young clerk, her eyes following Mrs H as she moved down the aisles, watching her as she placed items in her cart and removed them, over and over. 

“Weird”, the girl thinks to herself, “I hope I die before I get like that!”  She has no way of knowing in a few months she will get her wish - in a massive 26 car pileup when she and her car casually sashay across the highway medium while traveling 88 mph, as she simultaneously texts her BFF, stirring her cherry coke slushy and watching herself in the rear view mirror applying great goops of mascara.  

The girl figured she needed a higher up to keep a close eye on this crazy lady criminal who was, like touching everything, so she found the assistant manager, another red shirted, bored individual who after watching Mrs H figured here was his big shot at being managerly, he could impress his co workers and slide up the corporate retail rung.  He watches and immediately pegs Mrs H as a thief and the prime reason his stock numbers never add up, never considering that he isn't very good at math or basic addition. 

The two ill-fated youngsters watched Mrs. H slipped the batteries into her purse, and as she d0es they looked at each other, their lips silently mouthing “oooooooooooo”, and they take off after her as she decides to check out and heads towards the door.   The assistant manager radioes another clerk at the UPS counter telling her to call security, there is a shoplifter, as he and his partner catch up to and latch on to Mrs H who had reached the end of the school supply aisle.

“You swiped it!  We saw you! ” he yells in front of the happy Crayola display, while Mrs H confused and trembling, face as white as death cluthes her purse while he clutches at her (even though the Official Staples Management Manual had clearly stated never to touch any one, but to delay until authorities came).  But his youthful exuberance and excitement has clouded his reason.  He is starring in his very own episode of Cops! 

A tiny crowd gathered, hoping someone would do something interesting but all they got were two young clerks acting entirely too happy while they mauled a middle aged lady who looked and dressed just like most of them (except for the old blue fluffy slippers).  Still, they passively watched what they believed might be justice or not.  It was entertainment in any case.

Suddenly from the sidelines, a man in a suit appears.  He appraised the situation and ignoring the adolescents, stepped up to Mrs H.  “My name is Robert F.  Lywheel and I am an attorney at law. " pressing his card into Mrs H’s hand.  “Looks to me you like you might be in need of my services!  Call this number 24/7 if you do"and he stepped back into the crowd. 

Mrs H meanwhile was thoroughly confused. What had happened?   She had been looking at popcorn!  She had no way of knowing her errant hands had done it again: had gotten her into a world of trouble.   Well, the next thing you know Mrs H is arraigned and on her way to the local Big House for Ladies. 

So there she sits, in the Big House in an very unattractive orange jumpsuit, her hair a mess, roots growing, hair standing everywhere– this way and that on her legs, laying on a lumpy little upperbunk bed (with a not very nice person in the lower one scowling at her back, she could feel), as Mrs H looked at her unpolished toe nails, pondering what was left of her pathetic life.  She thought about the lawyers card.  It actually said “Call 24/7 - Rain or Shine!”

”maybe Agnes can loan me a couple of bucks”, she considered.

“mybe she’ll bail me out and loan me a couple of extra”, she thought again.

”sure. and maybe Mr H will miraculously appear and walk us through that wall”.

She shifted her body then and looked at the ceiling.  There were cracks.  Big ones.  And it was raining now.  

the continued mundane hijinx of Mrs H

Chapter One: Mrs H and The Dental Hygienist

Chapter Two: Mrs H Meets The Pillsbury Dough Boy

Chapter Three: Mrs H in the Garden of Eden on a Saturday Night