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Boots Are Made for Walkin' Walls Were Made for Talkin'

Southern Inn

By ImperfectlyPerfectPublished about a year ago 6 min read
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Boots Are Made for Walkin'  Walls Were Made for Talkin'
Photo by Ana Vieyra on Unsplash

If walls could talk, well hell, that's what I reckon I'm doin now. Otherwise, I'm imaginin things, or you're the one hearing voices that's not there. I suppose I like the latter option a little bit better than the first. Oh gosh darn it, where are my manners? I am Lady Pumpernickel, no relation to the bread whatsoever, I can assure ya. Yall ever heard that phrase "last man standin"? Well, that's me! Just take away the man part. I'm the last wall standin from the original hotel that opened back in the 1900's. Now listen here one minute before ya go judgin me trying to call me old, I'm referring to the 1970's. If I were a bird, I would still be considered a spring chicken. Enough about me though, though my foundation be old, my mind is still young. Welcome to Southern Inn!! I am your host, and I'm gonna tell you a little bit about the history of this here place.

It was the year 1968, my first debut at this here hotel. Can you believe it took em' two whole years to fully get things up and runnin? I heard old man Crawford sayin somethin about some paperwork and licensing. I figured ya only needed one of those to drive, but hey what do I know. But let me tell ya what I do know, all kinds of unrighteous things took place within these walls. I mean folks a sinning, like sin has never sinned before.

Now I'm not one to gossip, but there was a bunch of folks pass thru here who came to see a man about a horse, if ya catch my drift. Betty Ann from room 110 told Sara Lee in room 109, that she saw the same woman havin bedroom relations with her husband one night, come back in the next night with his married brother. She heard em' sayin, how if his brother ever found out, it would crush him. Of course, word got back to me. And with me sittin up here monitorin the front desk, I see folks check in and out all day. So, they wanted me to say if it was true or not. I knew the fella looked a bit different than he had the night before, but I couldn't say for sure because I wasn't payin much attention. I was listenin to the gossip from behind me in the break room. Apparently, our guest weren't the only one's sneakin and creepin. Just thinkin about it has me wantin to clutch my imaginary pearls. I guess folks were takin Luther's advice to heart back in those days.

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If ya think the 70's were somethin, then let me tell ya about those 80's. The cheatin was just the tip of the iceberg. As shameful as that was, folks round here had glue stick hands. Whenever they would walk by, somethin would always end up stickin to em'. Old man Crawford had hired some young thang to smile and look pretty, figured she would draw in a crowd. He put her up here to greet all the guest and make em' feel like they were home. She would just stand there all day grinnin, lookin like a damn she devil.

Well, while she was standin and smilin, she was stealin from his register and cheatin the guest. They didn't have camera's up back in those days, but I saw it for myself. A man gave her a $100 bill, and she hit the button sayin $50. I know this because I took a peek at the dollar sign that popped up as soon as she hit the button. Back then, a register would make a noise and a little thing would pop up showing how much a person gave ya. She slid that Franklin deep within her pockets. She handed him the wrong amount of change, and he just stood there, eyes glazin like a damn fool. He carried on gettin fresh with her so bad, that even the other sinnin folks got uncomfortable. Two heathens, just a skinnin and grinnin.

When those 90's came around, everybody was high on life, and some other stuff. I minded my own business though, up until some nasties decided to puff smoke all on my backside. They smoked and smoked month after month, and they would've kept on smoking if one of em didn't start a fire. Old man Crawford was so cheap, that he didn't have a fire alarm or sprinklers up. The county damn near made him close his doors due to all the safety violations they found. Thankfully I only had surface burns, but soot from that fire stayed on me for years.

Finally, when y2k decided to show itself, old man Crawford decided to give me a makeover. Bling Bling, or whatever it is ya young folks liked to say during those days. Truthfully all of us, but he started with me first, so that says somethin about who he took a likin to. He painted me a delicate pearl white, while makin the others a plain snow white. And we all know which is more precious, I'm just sayin. All the customers said how pretty I looked, and it made me blush just a bit. I ended up havin a permanent pink hue to me, on account of them buttering me up.

Back to what I was sayin though, couple years later, old man Crawford kicked the bucket. Last time I saw him was 2010 when they called the meat wagon to come pick him up. His son was next in line for owning the place, so he took over. This is the period when folks really started to show their asses. They were no longer waitin to get to their rooms to start their business, they would be all open mouthed in the front lobby just swappin spit. Why I had never seen such a thing before in my life. Damn near made my foundation crumble some. Oh my, and the music, well I'm sure I damn near turned crimson red from all the language. He didn't even have the decency to make sure folks kept their sin hidden. Damn heathen!!!

I'm getting carried away, please excuse me. Ya know what though, despite all the nonsense that took place within these walls, we truly were a family. There were some bad times, but there were some good times too. I didn't mind the bad too much, as long as it wasn't causin harm to me. I could go on and on for days, but I'm not gonna hold yall any longer from doing ya job. Just wish I was gonna be here to see this rebuild. This place meant a lot to me, but I trust my stand in is gonna do a mighty fine job. Farewell yall, it was good talkin to ya.

By Andrea Davis on Unsplash

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About the Creator

ImperfectlyPerfect

My favorite well known saying: An amateur does it until they get it right, while a professional does it until they can't get it wrong. Don't work to get it right, work to not get it wrong!"

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