Yankee Doodle Dixie by Lisa Patton Page A

neighbor, Wiley … I … I mean Riley .” Gosh, Leelee, what’s the matter with you? “Rrriley, this is Ki- Kri-Kiiissie.” At this point I’m so flustered I can’t get anybody’s name right.
    Kissie says, “Why hello.”
    Riley says, “Hello.”
    I say, “What’s your last name, Riley?”
    “Bwadshaw,” he says.
    Instead of simply leaving well enough alone, I just have to say, “Well, isn’t that just the nicest name? Riley Bwadshaw.”
    It’s not until Kissie looks at me with her eyebrows raised that I realize my latest faux pas. “I mean Bradshaw.” I close my eyes and shake my head, completely disgusted with myself.
    “I bwought over a housewarming pwesent for you.” He hands me the orange cleaning product he was holding earlier.
    “How nice.” After looking at it a moment I place it on the coffee table. “Thank you.”
    “Mind if I take off my jacket?” he asks.
    “Of course not,” I say. “Where in the world are my manners? Here, I’ll hang it up for you.” I’m so mortified, the man could ask me to buy his house and I’d do it; probably overpay him for it while I’m at it.
    Riley removes his jacket and hands it over. Kissie and I, at the exact same time, can’t help but stare bug-eyed at the shirt he’s wearing. It’s the bowling kind with vents on the sides. His is black and the lettering on the breast pocket reads, “Tupperware products can change your life! Ask me how!” To be honest, I’ve never seen the word “Tupperware” on a piece of clothing in my whole life. Nor did it ever once cross my mind that Tupperware clothing even exists, not to mention the life-changing kind. I do everything I can not to look at Kissie; I know one moment of eye contact with her will send me into a laughing attack and lord knows I’ve already offended the man enough.
    After a minute or so of unsubtle gestures like poking out the right side of his chest and scratching just below the logo, Riley not-so-inconspicuously turns around, so we can read the writing on the back of his shirt. “TUPPERWARE ROCKS!” is embroidered in all caps and it’s underlined with several red lines, also embroidered. After he stares at the blank wall and makes a comment about how much he likes the beige paint color, he turns back around. It’s obvious that he’s studying our faces, which, rest assured, were quite blank. “I can tell you ladies are dying to know how Tuppa’ware can change your life.”
    I’m not dying to know at all, but of course I lie and say, “How can it change my life, Riley?” Out of guilt for my previous faux pas, I nod my head and act like I’m interested. Kissie, on the other hand, doesn’t act in the least bit interested. In fact, by the perturbed look on her face, I can tell she’s well on her way to a stupor.
    “All I had to do to get started was give two parties and weport four hundwed dollars in sales,” he says. “Today, I’m at the top of my game. I’ve been on luxuwy vacations, I’ve got a bwand-new car.” As he’s listing, he’s counting on his fingers. “And you should see the furniture I’ve collected over the years. I’m the only male selling in Germantown”—he lowers his voice and closes his eyelids—“it’s a gweat way to meet the ladies.”
    Kissie slowly turns her head in my direction. Her eyebrows look like upside-down crescent moons. Between the look on her face and Wiley’s face it takes everything I’ve got to keep my shoulders still.
    “Either of you ladies intewested in holding a Tuppa’ware pawty?” Riley takes the jacket back out of my hands and holds it up to show us. Bless his heart. “Professional Tupperware Hunter” is in big neon green letters on the back.
    “Just for having one, you can get a stylish Twi-Mountain Highland Jacket like this one. It features a nylon zipper fwont, waglan sleeves, elastic cuffs and waistband, and twin pockets with safety flaps.” He’s pointing to each jacket feature, while holding it up to