Audiobook Narration Fiction - Comedy - Southern Accent

0:00
Audiobooks
195
0

Description

Several characters with distinctively different accents in the US Southern accent.
Females in ages ranging from 20 through 65.

Vocal Characteristics

Language

English

Voice Age

Middle Aged (35-54)

Accents

North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US South)

Transcript

Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
June 30 1951 11:30 a.m. Hey, hire a Georgia Betty Peyton and Claire Kanell headed down the hardpan road toward the farm of their friend Mary Glenn Purty. The windows were rolled down on Claire's Chevy Fleet line. On this hot and sticky day, the Chevy sent a plume of Georgia red clay dust billowing from the crest of Logan's Hill, down the winding descent to the party farm. Bette seemed particularly anxious to get to the meeting, and besides, clear always drove too slowly for Betty's taste. Betty egged her on. Are we in a funeral procession? Claire, Turn your lights on. Claire would have no part of it. I am a safe driver, and I will not drive like some reckless teenager buddy Peyton. She stuck her nose up in the air the way she always did when she was standing her ground. Betty and Claire, where to have lunch with Mary Glenn Purdy in the rotating monthly luncheon of the Hay Hira Ladies Club. This was Mary Glenn's month, and the girls were anxious to hear and deliver the latest gossip. Betty Peyton was notorious for her outlandish allegations, but all the other women secretly loved the excitement she brought to the luncheons. The party farm lost much of its appeal. Upon arrival in the dirt yard in front of the porch, dogs lay in any bit of shade they could find trying to escape the heat and occasionally snapped at the horseflies, pestering them. Most of the buildings were in various states of disrepair and the smells of a working farm or heavy in the air. Betty reached over and blew the horn, laid down on it, in fact, to announce their arrival. Landeg Oceans Betty, stop it, said Claire. The horn brought Mary Glenn's daughter, Reba, out to the porch, dressed in her favorite white cotton dress head. Ladies, come on in, Mama and I made Waldorf salad. Wait till you taste it. Rapist terrier mix. Trixie bolted through the doggy door of the screen porch door and down the steps to meet them. Betty turned the rear view mirror and touched up her dark red lipstick. She told the girls that made her even more glamorous. I know it's not fair to you ordinary looking girls, she was fond of saying. Trixie tried to jump on her when she stepped out of the car. Get away from me, you mongrel. You better not put a pall print on my new dress. Breathe. Get your dog back in the house, Reba called Trixie, and the dog scampered up the steps to her spot beneath the porch swing. Reba looked at the two women standing in the broom, swept her yard in front of the house and thought about how different two women could be from one another and still be best friends. Claire Con El was a tall and gangly woman, a strictly developed Christian who always dressed in the most conservative way and kept her hair tightly pinned in a bun. Betty Peyton was only four foot 10 inches tall, four foot 10 and 1/2 inches if you asked her. She loved cosmetics and wore floral pattern dresses to match the season. She had many colors of shoe die and used it to match her ever present high heels to her outfits by everyone else in town. But them they were known as the flower and the still MB Tink! Tink, Tink, Clear! Kanell tapped a spoon on her glass of sweet tea as president of the Hay Harbor Ladies Club. I hereby call this meeting to order. Old business was covered. New business in the form of the upcoming County Fair annual bake sale was on the agenda as well as the issue of dues, which certain parties were always negligent in paying. All of the attendees agreed this was insufferable behavior, as it so happened that all in attendance at today's meeting, more timely payers of dues. The meeting soon adjourned in. The lady's seated themselves at the dining room table for lunch the day before rebound. Her mama spent all afternoon in the kitchen preparing little what bread permitted cheese and egg salad sandwiches cut out with cookie cutters in diamond in star shapes. It was a tradition to serve light, low calorie fair in small portions. Lunch was unanimously declared a grand success, and soon the girls were ready to retire to the living room to catch up on the latest news and rumor. Betty had been unusually quiet during the luncheon, and Jan Caldwell brought it up as soon as they were seated in the living room. Betty Cat got your tongue. You surely were quiet at lunch. Dear, Is there something wrong? Yes, Jan Betty said. Seriously, there is something wrong, something rotten, and it's the biggest story to hit. Hey, Hira in 20 years. What I have to tell you is something you must promise to never repeat to anyone, especially Milton and Donna size be what I am about to tell. You must never be repeated. On Wednesday, I decided to go to size bees market because Donna size be told me they were expecting a fresh delivery of Rutabagas. I so love you to make a pie, and I make the best that you have ever tasted. Maybe one day I'll make one for the ladies club Anybody? I'm in the store chit chatting with Milton Sr up in the manager's both. He tells me all about how nice the Rutabagas look and how I can have the pick of the litter whenever Milton Junior puts them out on the produce shelf. I'll tell Milton Sr that I want to buy them today, and I do not plan on waiting for Milton Junior to get around to put in the mouth. I'll tell him it's not a Christmas rutabaga pie, and by the time Milton Junior gets around to it, it will be. Milton Sr asked if I would mind going in the back to the stock room and picked them out for myself. I'll tell him that's fine with me. So I head back to the stock room, he calls out as I'm walking to the back of the store for me to find Milton Junior and he'll give me a hand. I wave and say, I will haven't forbid you Get off your lazy lord button, Help me. But I don't say it loud enough for Milton Sr to hear me, because as you ladies, I'll know I do have manners. I've never been behind those swinging doors to the stock room, so I have no idea where anything is located. Let me tell you. The room is lit by bare light bulbs hanging from wires. There are no windows, and it doesn't smell the way you would want a grocery store to smell, either. Some areas are pitch black, and others are harshly lit by the bare bulbs. It gives me the creeps. There are cases of canned goods and other groceries everywhere, stacked high into the air. I certainly cannot see over them, so I walk around through the maze of food looking for the produce area. I soon get turned around and realize I don't know my way back out. I'll start to get a little nervous and decided to call out for Milton Junior, who's supposed to be back here somewhere. I'll start to get the uneasy feeling that a rat is going to run across my path at any minute. I don't want to sound too panicky, so I call in a kind of sing song voice. Milton Junior, Are you back here? It's Mrs Payton. Milton Junior. Can you come give me a hand? No answer. Keep walking. And now I'm in a forest of cereal boxes. It seems to be getting darker and darker. As I walk off, I can see an area that's more brightly lit, not too far away. I decided to go there and see if I can find a way out the stacks of boxes. They're not as high in this part of the stock room, and I can see over a few of the stacks to get a better idea of my whereabouts. I think I'm heading to the far corner of the building, and I'm thinking maybe I will find the loading dock and be able to walk around to the front of the store and start over at that moment, my worst nightmare. A distinct squeak. Then another Rats Ah, stop cold in my tracks, straining my eyes to see the floor in the dim light. Ah, here it clearly again, louder. This time I am ready to scream, but somehow I keep my composure. My mind is racing. I imagine myself a chewed up corpse lying on the floor, rats feeding off me when they finally come looking for me and discover my body. The squeaking is getting louder that cannot tell which direction to flee. They're not move fast as I'm a step in the rat's nest at any minute. Some rats grow his biggest cats. I've heard vicious disease carrying rodents, ready to attack anyone or anything that steps in their nest and disturbs their newborn litter. There it is again, the squeaking, but this time I can tell it's not under my feet, but farther away toward the corner of the building, I make my way carefully toward the light. I'm out of the serial forest and into the columns a laundry detergent stepped far above my head. I can walk up to each column and peek around, let my eyes adjust to the light before a move on Theresa Putnam raises her hand to ask a question. This discussed Betty Peyton to no end. Theresa, for God's sake, we're not back in elementary school. Why are you interrupting me? Teresa says. I don't mean to interrupt your story, Betty, but what exactly does this have to do with Reba? And what could she not hear what you're saying? Reba leans over close to the open windows so she can hear the answer. Theresa said, Betty, Peyton, I will tell you what this story has to do with Reba. If you will keep your trap shut for two minutes now, where was I before I was so rudely interrupted?