Teagan's Books

How different our food supply is from what it once was! A friend at work became very interested in the many unexpected things that lurk in our groceries.  She thought about serious questions, like “Where does it come from?” and “What goes into it?”  The answers were much more complicated than “From the grocery store” and “Seeds, sunshine, and rain.” It can be hard to run down the answers to those questions, and in looking you will often find the phrase “genetically modified organisms (GMOs).”

With its 1920’s setting, the characters in our Three Things Serial didn’t have to worry about such things. Food was simpler for them. Since this post is also a continuation of our story, I won’t delve further into the GMO topic.  However, here is a great link with lots of well-presented information.  It’s supplied by Laura in Virginia, who also gave me three old-fashioned-food “things.”

As always, you can do catch-up reading for the entire story at the Three Things Serial Story page.  And now another episode…

The coppers weren’t letting anybody inside the Nickelodeon Theatre, and there didn’t seem to be anything else for us to see there.  We loaded back into Andy’s jalopy and went for ice cream to kill some time.

I put the bent key carefully into my pocketbook while I listened to my friends discuss what had happened.  Mona hadn’t gotten a very good look.  About all Andy had seen was a commotion around the group of Russian dignitaries when the car paused beside them.  But Frankie, being the tallest in the group, had seen the white-haired woman get nabbed; pulled into the getaway car.  Andy, ever the screenplay writer, was coming up with some wild theories about the whole thing.  The Russian hadn’t said a word, but the more Andy speculated, the more worried “Boris the Ballerina” looked.

Within a few minutes we were all ordering our favorite sweet treats, unsettling thoughts pushed aside for the moment.  I commented that I wasn’t sure if I should get anything, since Frankie had brought me that yummy gelato earlier in the evening.  But what the heck!  Mona the Movie Star, who carefully watched her figure (though not as carefully as Andy the Astronaut watched it) was aghast at my appetite.  But she laughed it off.

“Honey, don’t worry.  You can make up for it tomorrow.  I’m going to make a nice tomato aspic.  You can come by for lunch tomorrow and share it with me,” she said.

I tried to look enthusiastic about Mona’s offer.  I hope I looked more optimistic than Boris.  He was positively peaked.  I suggested he get a Coca-Cola float — that should pep him up.  He agreed almost absently, but within a few minutes it seemed to be doing the trick.  Boris looked more like himself, and everybody was having a good time.

Later when we were all stuffed with ice cream and sodas and syrupy goodness, Andy dropped Frankie off at his place.  The fireman teased me that I still hadn’t read his palm, but he was a good sport about it.  Then the rest of us went back to our pseudo “office” homes.  (Who cared if we lived in what was supposed to be office space, as long as the rent was cheap!)

Andy pulled right up to the front door, and we got out of the Studebaker, Boris stopped in his tracks, looking up at his windows.  A light was on.  I knew he wouldn’t have left it that way.  He took a quick step toward the front door, but I grabbed his arm to hold him back.  There was definitely something bad going on in the Russian’s life, and I didn’t want to see him rush in and get hurt.

Just then Andy put the car into gear to go park it.  The Studebaker backfired.  I jumped.  Mona shrieked.  Boris whirled toward the sound.  The light went out in his apartment — I mean office.

I shoved Boris as hard as I could; pushing him into the shadows of some decorative bushes when the sound of running feet met my ears.  Then a man in dark clothes rushed past us.  He seemed to realize someone was there.  He gave a look over his shoulder in our direction, and that caused him to stumble over some empty milk bottles that Tim the Tailor had put outside.  When the man turned, the light caught something metal in his hand.  Was it a gun?

“Oh Applesauce!” I exclaimed as Boris broke loose from my grasp.  “Come back, I’m afraid he has a gun!”

However, Boris was already gone.