been trying for years to get Thelma to spruce up her house, but she stubbornly refuses. We have even gone so far as to fine her, but she won’t cough up a dime. As for the beauty shop, according to Ordinance 367, it isn’t even allowed.
How does Thelma get away with this, one might rightly ask?
The answer is simple: Like me, Thelma is descended from one of the founding families of our fair town. Her great-great-great-great-grandfather, Leghorn Unruh, pounded the first property marker into Hernia soil, claiming the freshly cleared land for God and king—I wish. Leghorn appears to have been gifted with remarkable foresight, looking out, as he did, for generations of slovenly 86 Tamar
Myers
Unruhs. When the town was incorporated a few years later, and he found himself smack dab in the middle, Leghorn Unruh refused to become an official part of the community, unless he was permitted to do things his own way. After much palavering, the founding fathers granted the Unruh homestead semiautonomous power in perpetuity. In short, although his descendants must pay property taxes, and in turn are entitled to municipal amenities, there are to be no restrictions on what the family can do with either the house or the land.
Theoretically, Thelma Unruh can raze her ramshackle mansion and erect a ninety-story skyscraper, or, much more appropriately, go into chicken farming. Speaking of skyscrapers, Elias Unruh, Leghorn’s grandson, attempted to build a circular tower that reached to Heaven. The Good Lord need not have feared an unwanted visitor, because Elias decided to be his own architect, and the tower collapsed when it was only three stories high. A circular remnant of this structure has been preserved within the walls of the crumbling Victorian. Unfortunately, this is not hearsay, as I have seen it several times with my own eyes.
At any rate, I gave Thelma a buzz, and when she didn’t answer at her home number, I tried her business.
“Hello. Unruh’s Unique Hair Designs.”
“Hello. Yoder’s unique PennDutch Inn. May I speak to the illustrious Thelma, please?”
“Magdalena, is that you?”
“As large as life, and twice as loud.”
“What?”
“Never mind, dear, I need to drop by for a chat.”
“When?”
“Now.
“No can do, unless you have an appointment.”
“Then please let me make one—for as soon as possible.”
“How does immediately sound?”
“Great!”
HELL HATH NO CURRY
87
“Now, what do you want done?”
“Nothing, of course. Like I said, I just want to chat.”
“Again, no can do. Magdalena, this is Unruh’s Unique Hair Designs, not Unruh’s House of Perpetual Chatter. You have to schedule a procedure.”
“Uh—okay. Trim my ends. Some of them are undoubtedly split, but just some, mind you. I keep my hair well conditioned.”
“That’s what they all say. But in any case, that won’t be enough.
I have to design something. You know, do a little styling.”
“Oh, all right. But it better be temporary. I’ve worn my hair in proper Christian coils my entire life. I better not come out of there looking like Betty Baptist, or heaven forefend, Patti Presbyterian.
And before we go too far, how much will this cost?”
“A style with wash will be twenty-eight.”
“Dollars?”
“Of course—oh, that’s right, you do have a reputation for stinginess, don’t you?”
“I prefer to think of myself as frugal. And just so you know, our Good Lord Himself was frugal. He turned the water into wine; He didn’t bring it as a gift.”
“I think that’s blasphemous.”
Alas, so did I. After whispering a quick prayer for forgive-ness, I got back to business.
“So how much would it cost without the wash?”
“Don’t be silly; I wouldn’t cut someone’s hair without washing it first. I tried that once with Wanda Hemphopple and was in for a nasty surprise.”
I swallowed guiltily. “You found a hot dog?”
“Among other things. Did you know that an original menu from the
How does Thelma get away with this, one might rightly ask?
The answer is simple: Like me, Thelma is descended from one of the founding families of our fair town. Her great-great-great-great-grandfather, Leghorn Unruh, pounded the first property marker into Hernia soil, claiming the freshly cleared land for God and king—I wish. Leghorn appears to have been gifted with remarkable foresight, looking out, as he did, for generations of slovenly 86 Tamar
Myers
Unruhs. When the town was incorporated a few years later, and he found himself smack dab in the middle, Leghorn Unruh refused to become an official part of the community, unless he was permitted to do things his own way. After much palavering, the founding fathers granted the Unruh homestead semiautonomous power in perpetuity. In short, although his descendants must pay property taxes, and in turn are entitled to municipal amenities, there are to be no restrictions on what the family can do with either the house or the land.
Theoretically, Thelma Unruh can raze her ramshackle mansion and erect a ninety-story skyscraper, or, much more appropriately, go into chicken farming. Speaking of skyscrapers, Elias Unruh, Leghorn’s grandson, attempted to build a circular tower that reached to Heaven. The Good Lord need not have feared an unwanted visitor, because Elias decided to be his own architect, and the tower collapsed when it was only three stories high. A circular remnant of this structure has been preserved within the walls of the crumbling Victorian. Unfortunately, this is not hearsay, as I have seen it several times with my own eyes.
At any rate, I gave Thelma a buzz, and when she didn’t answer at her home number, I tried her business.
“Hello. Unruh’s Unique Hair Designs.”
“Hello. Yoder’s unique PennDutch Inn. May I speak to the illustrious Thelma, please?”
“Magdalena, is that you?”
“As large as life, and twice as loud.”
“What?”
“Never mind, dear, I need to drop by for a chat.”
“When?”
“Now.
“No can do, unless you have an appointment.”
“Then please let me make one—for as soon as possible.”
“How does immediately sound?”
“Great!”
HELL HATH NO CURRY
87
“Now, what do you want done?”
“Nothing, of course. Like I said, I just want to chat.”
“Again, no can do. Magdalena, this is Unruh’s Unique Hair Designs, not Unruh’s House of Perpetual Chatter. You have to schedule a procedure.”
“Uh—okay. Trim my ends. Some of them are undoubtedly split, but just some, mind you. I keep my hair well conditioned.”
“That’s what they all say. But in any case, that won’t be enough.
I have to design something. You know, do a little styling.”
“Oh, all right. But it better be temporary. I’ve worn my hair in proper Christian coils my entire life. I better not come out of there looking like Betty Baptist, or heaven forefend, Patti Presbyterian.
And before we go too far, how much will this cost?”
“A style with wash will be twenty-eight.”
“Dollars?”
“Of course—oh, that’s right, you do have a reputation for stinginess, don’t you?”
“I prefer to think of myself as frugal. And just so you know, our Good Lord Himself was frugal. He turned the water into wine; He didn’t bring it as a gift.”
“I think that’s blasphemous.”
Alas, so did I. After whispering a quick prayer for forgive-ness, I got back to business.
“So how much would it cost without the wash?”
“Don’t be silly; I wouldn’t cut someone’s hair without washing it first. I tried that once with Wanda Hemphopple and was in for a nasty surprise.”
I swallowed guiltily. “You found a hot dog?”
“Among other things. Did you know that an original menu from the
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