Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ Suds In The Bucket ❯ One-Shot

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters from Gundam Wing or the song by Sara Evans. Thanks to Cowboy Lyrics for the lyrics.

 

 

Suds in the Bucket

 

She sighed as her brothers and their friends ran through the yard with their friends into neighbors' yards. They knocked over her bucket as they rioted around the lawn. She poured more water and soap into it then proceeded to hang dry more clothes. She wanted that washing machine fixed soon. She looked inside and saw her mother was baking a pie for after dinner. Her father was harassing her mother, trying for a taste. Leaving the pie to cool, her parents went down the street to call on a friend. Yes, life was certainly boring nowadays. If only she had the money for a real adventure…. She wasn't sure what a “real adventure” was, but it didn't matter as she didn't have the money.

A white truck pulled up on the side lawn. She shook her head in amusement. The boys of the town were always trying to sweep her off her feet. However, she knew better than to fall for their tricks. The people of the town called it down to earth. She called it higher standards. None of the people in town had high goals for their lives. She wanted more, but…there was just something missing. Perhaps being a spy as a child planted unattainable goals in her. She had seen a better life, but it was just out of her grasp.

However, sticking his head out of the driver's side window was not one of the local boys. It was him. She smiled and ran to him. He gestured to the seat next to him. She went to the passenger side and almost climbed in. Then she told him she had to leave a note. Dashing inside, she scribbled a note to her parents and pinned it on the screen door. Then she raced to his truck and climbed in it. He sped off down the street, not saying a word to her yet.

 

She was in the backyard - they say it was a little past nine
When her prince pulled up - a white pickup truck
Her folks shoulda seen it comin' - it was only just a matter of time
Plenty old enough - and you can't stop love
She stuck a note on the screen door - "sorry but I got to go"
That was all she wrote - her mama's heart was broke
That was all she wrote - so the story goes

 

“How can she just leave?” questioned her mother loudly at finding the note and no Midii. Her husband walked in the house in a daze. He went to the kitchen, the room closest to the backyard in the house. It seemed he had to check for himself to make sure she really had left.

“She left the wash out,” he announced still sounding confused, “Clothes are on the line; bucket still has suds in it.” His wife paced on the porch. She turned over all the pictures of her daughter. They all reminded her how reckless her daughter could be. Surely her little girl wasn't gone for good, not just like that. She looked over and saw the neighborhood gathering around the house. Did everyone hear what was happening?

 

Now her daddy's in the kitchen - starin' out the window
Scratchin' and a rackin' his brains
How could 18 years just up and walk away
Our little pony-tailed girl growed up to be a woman
Now she's gone in the blink of an eye
She left the suds in the bucket
And the clothes hangin' out on the line

 

“He must have been a real smooth talker,” murmured Mr. Jenkins, “she was so down to earth. She wouldn't have fallen for any lessen.”

“He had to be a looker,” commented Mrs. Small, “She never did anything without thinking about it, but love makes you do crazy things.”

“How could she just fall in love in less than a minute?” countered Mr. Rodden. “That sun of a gun must have kidnapped her.”

“He didn't kidnap her,” protested Ms. Brown, “I saw it with my own eyes. He pulled up, she put the note on the door, and then she got in the car and they sped away.”

“He still had to have been a smooth talker,” Mr. Jenkins said.

“And a real looker,” added Mrs. Small.

Miss Leary giggled, “I wonder what Rev. O will talk about on Sunday.”

“Yeah,” wondered Ms. Brown, “Nothing quite like this has happened here before.”

 

Now don't you wonder what the preacher's gonna preach about Sunday morn
Nothin' quite like this has happened here before
Well he must have been a looker - smooth talkin' son of a gun
For such a grounded girl - to just up and run
Course you can't fence time - and you can't stop love

 

Mrs. Une sat down in the chair as her hair stylist started to do her hair.

“He was as least twenty-five,” insisted Lesley Johnson.

“Seven years older?” asked Eloise Skye, “That's old for an eighteen year old.”

“He was her own age,” chastised Margaret Babbitt, “but he's from another country. He's a traveling poet, and she heard his poems at the college. That's how they know each other. She fell in love with him there.”

“Thank you, Carly,” thanked Eloise as she took the drink offered by the parlor attendant, “I heard they met during the war, and that he was a soldier who saved her one day when she was off playing.”

“Oh, please, like anyone believes that,” Lesley rolled her eyes sipping on the drink, “He was too cute to be a soldier. He had blond hair—”

“It was red!” interrupted Margaret.

“Oh, no, it was definitely brown,” claimed Eloise. “Did you know that Katherine Redd thinks it was black?” The ladies laughed at the idea. Mrs. Une just reddened and sank in her chair. This talk about her daughter was most embarrassing.

 

Now all the biddy's in the beauty shop gossip goin' non-stop
Sippin' on pink lemonade
How could 18 years just up and walk away
Our little pony-tailed girl growed up to be a woman
Now she's gone in the blink of an eye
She left the suds in the bucket
And the clothes hangin' out on the line

 

“Where are we going?” Midii grinned as she propped her feet, shoes off, on the edge of the passenger's side window. The wind felt good in the summer heat.

“I know a place,” he assured then joked, “We can even get married.”

She laughed, “Great! Just what my parents need.”

“You sure about this?” he asked casually.

“Yeah, you wouldn't believe my life back there,” she said, “Let's just drive down the road.”

“That, I can do,” he smiled.

 

She's got her pretty little bare feet hangin' out the window
And they're headin' up to Vegas tonight
How could 18 years just up and walk away
Our little pony-tailed girl growed up to be a woman
Now she's gone in the blink of an eye
She left the suds in the bucket
And the clothes hangin' out on the line

 

“Want to call your parents?” he asked as they signed in at the chapel.

“No, we can call them tomorrow,” she said, “Life is so boring there; I doubt anyone but my family will notice I'm gone, so we can hold off announcements for awhile.”

 

She left the suds in the bucket

And the clothes hangin' out on the line