PRETTY LOOKIN' PEOPLE

PART 1: PRETTY LOOKIN’ PEOPLE

Bonnie stood staring into her closet. She was still wearing the worn slip she’d slept in.  Since she’d broken her arm a few days earlier, dressing herself had become a challenge. She was quickly running out of garments she could fit over the plaster cast and washing her clothes was almost impossible with one functioning arm. Elsie, a nearby friend who lived alone, had offered to pick her up and have her come and stay for a spell, until Bonnie could manage to do more on her own.

Bonnie’s mind drifted as she scanned the meager collection of faded cotton hanging there. She found herself teleported to a secret place, her favorite escape.   

“Miss Parker, is that you? I’m so thrilled to make your acquaintance. I’ve recently had the pleasure of reading your latest book of poetry and I positively swooned.”

“Congratulations, Miss Parker, looks like you’ve got yourself another bestseller.”

“Who’s your agent, Miss Parker? Betcha I kin do ya one better. You name your price and I can get it.”

“More champagne, Miss Parker? You have so much to celebrate.”

“Miss Parker, is it true you took all the photographs for your books yourself? Mighty impressive.”

“Where do you see yourself in five years, Miss Parker, having seen so much success already in your young life?”

“Well, I . . .”

“Bonnie, I was callin’ you! Where’d you get off to, girl? Sandman takin’ you on a daydream?”

“Hey, Elsie. I guess I lost my way tryin’ to decide what glad rags I should try squeezin’ into today wi’ my dang swelled arm.”

“Well, you hava seat, honey. Let’s have a look in here.”

Bonnie sat in the corner rocker and let Elsie take over. She was tired but not due to a broken limb. She was sick to death of dull, dusty, dead-end Cement City, Texas. She’d had no daddy since she was four, same as having none at all.  She adored her momma but a lifetime of hard work and want had taken its toll and she was already an old woman at 38.   

“Say, Else?”

Elsie emerged from Bonnie’s closet holding two dresses on hangers.

“Pick one.”

“That one. Else, let’s get out of here.”

“Not again. Honey, you know I can’t go nowhere. I got a job here and momma and daddy ain’t doin’ so well.”

“I’d be leavin’ my momma.”

“And you’d hate yourself later, Bonnie, you know it.”

“I hate here, Else, I jus’ hate bein’ here.”

“Don’t be so blue, Bonnie. Come on, let’s get you dressed and feelin’ pretty. Then we’ll go have some fun at my place.”

* * *

Driving to Elsie’s house in her old roadster, Bonnie could see the effects of the ongoing drought that threatened to devastate the farming communities all around if rain didn’t come soon.  The land was a dried husk slowly dying.

The only sounds of life were the drone of cicadas and the sputtering of Elsie’s Buick.

Bonnie felt as barren and colorless as the landscape, yet deep inside she harbored the spark of youth and, with it, a stubborn certainty that something special would come her way and spare her from spending a moment longer in the depressed dust bowl that was her life. 

* * *

“I got somethin’ to show you.”

“What is it? Come on, spill.”

“Hold your horses, it’s a surprise.”

“Level with me, Else, it’s not another feller, is it?”

“This is a whole lot better than any feller. It’s entertainin’ and reliable.”

“Wait a minute. You mean?”

“Looky right there.”

“Elsie, how’d you get your hands on a radio?” 

“Daddy. He worked on some fancy man’s car last week. This is how he paid him. Daddy said he had no use for it but I begged and I begged. And, well, there it is.”

“You’re right, absolutely, it’s better than any feller.”

“What’s the matter, honey? Why you so blue all of a sudden?”

“I cain’t just listen anymore to anythin’. I bin listenin’, waitin’ and wantin’ all my life for somethin’. I don’t know what but I know I’m meant to do more, to be more than this here.”

“You’re jus’ in a mood, honey. Bet that arm’s got you down. Why don’t you make us some chocolate. I got the kind you like up in the cupboard. Let’s see if I kin get some music on this thing. Reception’s not worth a damn but let’s see what I kin find.”

Bonnie nodded. Well, ain’t nothin’ to do ‘bout nothin’ at the moment. She picked herself up and headed to the kitchen.

* * *

As she waited for the water to heat, Bonnie stared out the window that overlooked the back yard. Elsie’s yard was small but neat. There was a seating area with wicker chairs and a wrought iron table that at one time had been painted yellow, but years of neglect and oppressive Southern heat had bleached and almost stripped it bare. 

The sight suited Bonnie’s mood exactly. She saw the furniture as her youth, her vibrancy, slowly peeling away in the baking sun, with no way to get it back.

Something caught her eye and she watched as a fly skittered across the glass pane directly in front of her. She could hear the water on the stove behind her was nearly ready. As she turned to look, she heard a muffled thud at the window.

She saw the tiniest gray fluff of a feather on the glass and surmised what had happened.  She reached and turned off the stove, moving the pan off the burner.

Going out the back door, Bonnie saw what she expected; a small wren was on the ground. 

She slowly went to it and checked for signs of life. She could see its beak was moving as if trying to get air and its chest was heaving.

She suddenly felt she was being watched. Out of the corner of her eye she met the intense gaze of an orange calico. The cat was obviously a stray, rangy and matted, and as interested in the fallen wren as Bonnie.

“Scram,” threatened Bonnie, and took a step toward the feline.

When the cat didn’t budge, Bonnie quickly stepped to the bird and knelt between it and the predator. She took a handkerchief from her dress pocket and quickly laid it out, scooped up the bird as gently as she could with one good hand and gathered it into her arms.

She took the bundle around to the front of the house and saw Clarence’s car out front. Clarence was friends with Elsie so she assumed he was visiting.

Bonnie continued into the shed off to the side of the property and set the bird down on a wooden bench. It still appeared to be panting. She looked around for something to put it in to keep it safe until it recovered.

As she gathered materials to make the bird comfortable, she heard the front door of the house open.  The shed had a filthy window but she could just make out two male figures leaving. 

I wonder who’s that with Clarence?   

As she watched the men, her eyes fixed on the stranger. She moved to the window as if drawn by a force she had no will to control. 

She’d never seen him before but she felt an inexplicable attachment, as if the sky had opened and sent beams of light to shine on them both. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt before and she lost herself in it until . . .

What’s that fluttering? Sounds like angel wings.  

The wren had managed to make a complete recovery and was now flying around the small shed desperately looking for a way out.

Bonnie panicked, thinking she’d saved the creature only to have it crash and die in the shed.  

She opened wide the shed door and tried waving her arms to get the bird to fly in the right direction. Once Bonnie stopped waving, the bird saw the light and zipped away.

Bonnie stepped outside. Clarence’s car was gone.

“There you are! You just missed Clarence.”

“I saw him. Who was that with him?”

“That one’s nothing but trouble. You were lucky not to meet him.”

“What sorta trouble?”

“The law."

"What for?"

"Stealin'. He’s already spent time in the pen’.”

“He looked all right.”

“Looks ain’t everythin’, honey.” 

“They ain’t nothin’”

“Believe me, you’ll bless the day you never met Clyde Barrow.”

* * *

PART 2: THE DEVIL’S CHILDREN

Well, ain’t nothin’ to do 'bout nothin’ at the moment.

She picked herself up and headed to the kitchen.

As she waited for the water to heat, Bonnie stared out the window that overlooked the back yard. Elsie’s yard was small but neat. There was a seating area with wicker chairs and a wrought iron table that had at one time been painted yellow, but years of neglect and oppressive Southern heat had bleached and almost stripped it bare.

The sight suited Bonnie’s mood exactly.

When the water on the stove began to boil, Bonnie took the pan off the burner and prepared two cups of chocolate.

She thought she might have heard a muffled thud at the kitchen window but, just then, there came a knock at the front door. She could hear Clarence’s voice, a friend of Elsie’s, along with a new voice, that of a stranger.

Clarence came into the kitchen and saw Bonnie.

“Hi, Bonnie. Elsie said you were here. I have someone I want you to meet. Don’t go nowhere.”

Bonnie was temporarily distracted by the sight of a mangy orange cat running from the back yard into the neighbor’s yard with something in its mouth. The tabby glanced back once, and then disappeared.

Bonnie suddenly felt unsettled.

“Bonnie, this is Clyde Barrow. Clyde, this is Bonnie Parker.”

“Ma’am, at your service.”

“Hi yourself, Mr. Barrow.”

“How come I ain’t never run into you before, Miss Parker? I feel like I’ve been missing somethin’.”

“If you’re from around here, you’re definitely missin’ somethin’, lots of somethin’. You from here, Mr. Barrow?”

“Not far, Miss Bonnie. Now, what do I have to do to get you to call me Clyde?”

Clarence cut in.  “I’ll let you two get acquainted but, Clyde, remember, we can’t stay long.”

“All right, mother.”

When Clarence left, Bonnie pointed to the steaming cups.

“I was making chocolate; you want some?”

“No, I think I’ve got all the sweetness I need right here.”

“Where’s a big timer like you been all my life, Mr. Clyde Barrow?”

“You lookin’ for a big timer, Miss Bonnie Parker?”

“Well, I been lookin’ for somethin’.”

“What you think about somebody just takes what he wants?”

“Well now, that would depend what he’d be wantin’ then.”

“You’re one sharp little bunny, Bonnie Parker, you know that?”

“Well, I know one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m gonna’ bless the day that I met Clyde Barrow.”

*  *  *

The Brownsville Herald

January 14, 1934

“Outlaw Raids Prison, Frees Five.

Prison Manager Tells Story of Barrow’s Raid.

Escape was prearranged, probe shows. Air full of bullets when five break for freedom.”

* * *

The Brownsville Herald

April 6, 1934

“Barrow Mows Down 2 More Officers. Makes Getaway.

Machine Gun Fire Kills Constable, Wings Companion.”

* * *

The Indianapolis Times. 

May 17, 1934.

“WANTED

Clyde Champion Barrow, aliases Clyde Barrow, Elvin Williams.

Description:

Age: 24

Height: 5 feet, 7 inches

Complexion: Light

Hair: Dark Brown, probably dyed black at present

Eyes: Hazel

Tattoo Marks: Shield and anchor with USN on right outer forearm; girl’s bust, left inner forearm”

* * *

The Frontier

(O’Neill City, Nebraska) 

May 18, 1934.

“Charm and Dignity

This photo, reproduced from one of six negatives found in a rendezvous of gunmen at Joplin, Mo, is believed to be a picture of Bonnie Parker, who apparently is proud of being a gunman’s ‘moll.’ She is sought in connection with a gun battle, in which two officers were killed when two men and two women shot their way out of a police trap.”

* * *

The Shamrock Texan

(Wheeler County, Texas)

May 23, 1934

“Clyde Barrow is Killed

Bandit Pair Riddled With Bullets As Car Runs Police Gauntlet”

* * *

The Indianapolis Times

May 23, 1934

“Clyde Barrow, Texas Killer, and Sweetheart Are Slain By Posse

Notorious Southwestern Outlaw And Bonnie Parker Ride Into Trap Laid In Louisiana.

Credit Goes to Young Sheriff

Bloody Career of Young Desperado Comes to End As Peace Officers Track Him Down and Open Fire.”

*  *  *

The Evening Star

(Washington DC) 

May 23, 1934.

“Outlaw Barrow and Woman Slain as Speeding Auto Runs into Ambush.

Rangers’ guns riddle pair as they reach for arms in vehicle, traveling at 85-mile rate.

Lead poured into pair after crash stops car.

Bonnie Parker Dies with machine gun in lap while the West’s No. 1 desperado clutches revolver. A dozen killings attributed to Barrow in two years. 

Careers Ended.”

* * *

Brownsville Herald

(Brownsville, Texas) 

May 25, 1934

“Taken Before Death

Inseparable in their wild career of murder and banditry, Clyde Barrow and Bonnie Parker posed for this picture before the law had chased them to their last hideout.”

* * *

Bonnie Parker

The Ballad of Bonnie and Clyde

“Someday they’ll go down together

They’ll bury them side by side

To few it’ll be grief

To the law a relief

But it’s death for Bonnie and Clyde.”