Ms. Darleen Lucious Dibbles, pageant photo from Miss Confederacy Competition 1995 Ms. Dibbles was first runner-up. One of the judges, Mrs. Oomala Frederickson, objected to her talent of whisking gravy, stating she was a devout vegetarian and gravy was a sin. Ms. Dibbles considers the pageant to be a life-altering event. She married another judge, Mr. Eustace Dibbles, who declared he loved watching her whisk her gravy. Unfortunately, Mr. Dibbles passed away due to extreme old age only a few months after the wedding, leaving Ms. Dibbles independently wealthy.
Ms. Darleen Dibbles of Suncrest Court
by roving reporter Jaleta Clegg, Lifestyles of the Small and Unimportant
Thursday evening, the inhabitants of Suncrest Court begin to gather. They surreptitiously stake out territory near the property lines of Ms. Darleen Dibbles, noses quivering as they wait for the first faint teasing breath as she opens her oven. Thursday night is pot roast night.
Ms. Dibbles, a widow of thirteen years, has made it her civic duty to reward those who strive to make the community a better place to live. She can be seen throughout the week in various sections of Dibbley-in-the-Downs with her little notebook, jotting down names. Every Thursday morning, before she walks to Maizie’s Emporium of Fine Comestibles to purchase a specialty pot roast, she tabulates her records, assigning point values to each good deed witnessed. Once she has a name, she carefully crafts a handwritten invitation to partake of dinner at her house that evening. Spouses are always included; children rarely. Ms. Darleen Dibbles does not care particularly for children, unless they are exceptionally gifted in comporting themselves in an adult fashion.
“I’m a firm believer in positive reinforcement,” Darleen confided in an interview earlier this week. “I never track the horrible things people do, only the good. And I try not to notice children.” She shuddered ever so delicately. “Sometimes it can’t be helped.”
Ms. Dibbles’ pot roast is a reward worthy of even the most extravagant public service or generous donation.
“It melts in your mouth, better than butter or even chocolate fudge, the creamy real kind not that pasty commercial stuff sold in the mega-marts,” Bob Dinkleduff, a recent recipient of Ms. Dibble’s pot roast, commented. “The taste is beyond heavenly. Is Father Duncan going to read this?” Mr. Dinkleduff scurried away to confession.
But Ms. Dibbles doesn’t extend her rewards to conspicuous do-gooders. “I prefer to reward those poor, overlooked souls who do so much in such little ways. Like the older gentleman just this morning who spent over an hour scraping chewing gum from the pavement. I must invite him for dinner, perhaps on a Monday, the poor thing popped the gum into his mouth when he had it free of pebbles.”
If you see Ms. Dibbles in her peacock hat with notebook in hand, be sure you are doing something good for the community. Nothing extravagant, mind you, but something she’ll be sure to notice. She may reward you with her divine pot roast dinner, complete with carrots, mashed potatoes, and celery tonic.