Prompt and Circumstance

20:20 Vision - Big Mac

'busker' (Nov. 11-13, 2016)

"What's that?" Esther put her cup down with a jolt and frowned, turning her head from side to side, trying to identify the direction the sound came from.

"What? I can't hear anything 'cept the normal Friday afternoon busyness of everyone and their dog, all shopping for the long weekend... " Betty would have rolled her eyes, but Esther was looking intently at her.

"It's a bell ringing."

"Nah... that's only on Sundays, just before the holy jumpers all pile into their church!" Betty's tone left no doubt what she felt about all things religious and 'churchified' as she always called them.

"I tell you, I hear a single bell ringing - and it's NOT a church bell. And... it's getting closer."
Suddenly, Esther's voice changed. "It's your husband for heaven's sake Betty. Look - it's Mac!"

"Och... well, of course it is. I'd be forgetting me own head if it wasn't screwed on proper. He's doing his crying bit about that weekend Market Show. Get the folk all stirred up, make sure they're not forgetting it, you know?"

"Crying, Betty?" Esther's eyes widened. "The Town Crier surely does a bit more than crying when he struts around town, ringing his bell and shouting out the news to all and sundry. And when he's as tall as Mac and has a voice THAT powerful... well-ll, it surely puts busking in the shade."

"Bussing? Well, of course... he's a school bus driver too, but he doesna go dressing up for that job. And he doesna do any shouting about it. Well, none I've heard, anyways." She sniffed to make her point. "Pretty ordinary sort of work, if yer ask me... 'though it does take a bit of that true grit stuff most days, with all them kids..."

Esther took a large mouthful of her coffee and then a slow, deep breath to restore her patience before she answered. "Busking, I said, Betty. BUSKING! You know - those wannabe musician types on the streets who play guitars and things, or sing, or dance - and have a tin or a hat for people to drop money into." Esther shook her head slowly. "I hate to say it old dear, but I think your 20:20 hearing is shrinking, just like the rest of your small self."

"20:20, yer say?" Now Betty did roll her eyes. "That's about yer VISION, yer silly wee lassie!"

"Oh no! You've got it wrong, my girl. Mostly, our perfect hearing range is from 20Hertz to 20,000 Hertz—"

"Hurts, you say?" Betty's eyes looked ready to pop out on sticks. "20,000 hurts. Nahhr... I couldna cope wid that. I've got enough hurts already!"

"Ohh Betty... sshhh, and listen to me. I said Hertz!" and Esther spelled it out, slowly and carefully. "It's a measure of sound. They say the 'norm' is much less than that, and our range gets smaller as we age."

"Hmm... " Betty wasn't sure if this was a fact or not, but she was obviously losing her edge... fast. And so she changed the subject before all was lost. "Anyways, going back to Big Mac, the thing I keep telling him is that he doesn't have to shout all the time. It's abnormal. And it's disrespect of me and me ears, both."

"Ohh Betty. I hate to say it dear, but I really think the time has come to think about hearing aids." Esther grimaced, sure that her words would unleash a verbal firestorm. Instead, her words fell on deaf ears, as it were.

"ME? 'ave some earrings made? Who'd yer reckon I am? Some kind of Rocker-bloomin'-feller?"

**On Write On, the comment about this chapter I made was -

Betty's b-a-c-k... and so is this story.
Back in the days when she was only just beginning to lose some bits of herself.
Back in the days of her Big Mac.