A Quartet of Flat Betties (or is it Bettys?)

Long long ago in a far off land - oh wait this isn't exactly a fairy tale.  OK, several years ago I was in my studio creating a new primitive doll.  Had her legs sewn and stuffed, her arms sewn and stuffed, and her body sewn - her body was actually her dress.  Her head was done except for the hair.  So I sewed that little beauty together, realized I had not stuffed the body, and Flat Betty was born.  She hung on the wall and of course had to have a story to go with her as most of my dolls did, in a wee little book that she held.  I was so taken with Flat Betty that I just had to keep the tale going.


Now I'm going to blog the Flat Betty tales during the next week.  So if you like this one, be sure to check back in a few days for the NEXT installment!

FLAT BETTY and THE SNOWBALL 

Now Flat Betty was on her way to work at the Ding Dong Dinner Diner and she was in a VERY bad mood.  Her dog had chewed up her best feather pillow.  Her cat had gagged up not one but two hairballs right in the middle of her bed.  Her shoelace broke and she had to use twine to tie it with.  Her best lipstick was down to a nub.  And worst of all, the wind was so strong that it  blew her new hairdo right up in the air (of course there was ALWAYS a reason for Flat Betty’s hairdo).  So she decided that SOMEONE was going to pay!  Scooped up a huge snowball with the intention of throwing it at the first person she saw.  But - Harley Hoyt Holcomb – the purtiest man she ever knew came walking down the street and she knew if she was EVER to get another kiss from HH, she just couldn’t throw that snowball at him.  So she didn’t.  Next came Rev. Flugle from The Holiness Church of  Sacred Glade.  And she of course couldn’t throw a snowball at a man of God. So she didn’t.   Now ‘yall know how if you put your tongue on a cold lamp post it will stick?  Well, by this time Flat Betty’s hands were plumb stuck to that snowball!  How in the world was she supposed to take orders at the Ding Dong Dinner Diner with a giant snowball in her hands?  MORAL OF THE STORY:  A snowball in the hand isn’t worth much except maybe a good excuse for a bad hairdo!