The Trial of Mildred Witherspoon

The Trial Of Mildred Witherspoon

By P.S.Gifford

The diminutive grey haired lady slowly but surely shuffled her way along the immense corridor and through the impressive mahogany double doors and finally into the gaping room. As soon as the door swung open every voice in the room became hauntingly silent and every eye set swiftly upon her. A few people shook there heads slowly side to side perhaps in disbelief, or maybe either in sheer horror at the unfolding events of the few days. Eyes examined her yellow polyester skirt, and matching green polyester blouse, with delicate flowers of some description patterned upon it. Other eyes examined her hairnet wrapped proficiently around her head full of curlers. Others still examined her pale weathered face, in search of some sense of what might have inspired her to such unprecedented madness.

Within a few minutes she climbed up onto the stand and stood there. She began to tremble and for the first time since her accusation the beginnings of panic started to form within her tired brain.

A fat, balding pompous looking gentleman sitting behind an oversized desk positioned directly in front of her cleared his throat, and tapped onto a microphone with a bulbous index finger… The sound echoed ominously throughout the deadly silent room. The smug look that instantly came across his face revealed he was clearly satisfied.

“Are you Mildred Witherspoon?” He asked with a haughty tone.

“Yes, I am.” Mildred whispered.

“I beg your pardon,” the insufferable voice bellowed. “Could you speak louder please?”

“I said, yes I am.” Her voice was louder this time yet her gaze was firmly planted at her feet.

“On February 11th of this year, is it also correct that you prepared freshly made steak and kidney pies and served them with steamed carrots finished with fresh ground nutmeg?”

Mildred nodded.

“What was that Mildred?”

“Yes, I served those things you mentioned.”

“And is it further true that the very next day you served fresh cod, mashed potatoes and mushy peas?”

“I did…It is true.” Mildred said finally lifting her gaze from her very practical brown shoes.

“And on top of that on the 13th did you or did you not serve roast pork, asparagus spears and potato gratin?”

“Again this is true…”

“Then, I have no other course of action then to find you guilty on all accounts; Guilty of serving nutritious food, guilty of serving flavourful food and guilty of serving delicious food that people actually enjoy. I have no other cause of action but to dismiss you from your current post, and offer you a job at my house instead. No longer can you be a school dinner lady.”

And as the audience fell into a rather loud and somewhat obnoxious burst of applause, yet another Sandwell school board meeting was concluded.

The end.

P.S. Gifford

P.S. Gifford is a published horror author of great talent. He started submitting stories around 2005. His short stories are by far some of the best and most entertaining that I have read. Around that time he was invited to write columns which are titled "Paperback Writer."

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