basmama
Terry thought she would get educated. She was old and fat and had decided that there was no place left for her. Perhaps school would open her eyes. It did: to the fact that there really was nothing
"Esme, This is not acceptable behaviour." muttered Mel. his head quivering almost imperceptibly as it did whenever he was making a statement the ending of which he had no foreknowledge of. "Absolutely not!" shrilled Audrey. "Absolutely not" Mel turned his head towards Audrey. "Do you mind. This is mine." "Hmph, fine" came the curt response. Mel turned back to Esme, who was leaning on the side of her car, arms folded. head cocked. a whole body daring him to continue. He stared at his daughter, whom he had now indicated he would consider a punishment for. Searching for the his words he suddenly became hyper aware of the dual racing lanes of thought and speech that buzzed in his head "Now Esme . . ." what is the punishment, What can I ask of her? "You really shouldn't have done this..."Can I ask her to make an apology? Yes " So I think you should apologize to Petra and Andy and . . .", maybe she should pay for the cake? "and offer to pay for the cake. . ." But she's not worked for a while. "Somehow . . ." She is living at home. "Perhaps you could work out a payment plan with your sister. . . " If she will talk to you. " Perhaps we can all sit down . . ." Petra really looks pissed. " And I will help mediate . . ." How can I make this better? "In order to find a way to put things right" I hate doling out consequences. " And if you need a little help, I will help." Suddenly wheels squealed across the dual carriageway and cut him off. "What kind of punishment is that!" He slowly resumed the drive, avoiding the asshole that cut him off. Why is Audrey such a bitch? "Just a second . . . So . . ." Uh frack. How am I going to get out of this?
Of course the wedding cake sinking in the heat of Esme's car was far more concrete proof of her guilt than the missing statue. But having negotiated her way out of paying the price for family prank offences on numerous occasion, Esme anticipated that this one too should be a piece of wedding cake to wriggle out of. She smiled at Mel conspiratorially, as though he had been in on the act, and then shot him a toothy cheshire cat grin, cocking her head to the side that said, 'Come on you know it was just a joke'. But Mel was no longer smiling.
Audrey, who was not overly enamoured of anyone but her self, was particularly not fond of Esme, ever since the incident two summers ago when, baffled by the disappearance of her prized lawn statue, a 4 foot replica of Venus On The Half Shell which she had proudly wrought from scrap tin, sea glass and a tin cast of her own face during of a 6 month course in Recycling Art, she then found in its stead a peeling plaster effigy of Betty Boop,naked in a blonde wig, its roots painted grey, rubber snakes woven through its synthetic locks glued onto a small worn blue shag rug with a sign marked Medusa on The Bathmat: a seeming dig at her obsessive need for bi daily showers.
There was no immediate proof that it Esme had done any thing underhanded to sabotage the wedding, just the aroma of rotting kelp and eggs emanating from the wedding cake when Petra and Andy cut into. However, the discovery of the real wedding cake carefully packed into the back of her Subaru wagon, neatly boxed up in its original packaging from the Flour De Lis bakery did rather land her in the hot seat as number one suspect, that and the umpteen emails to her sister accusing her of stealing Andy away from her.
Staring with a resignation almost as heavy as the The crimson slate billiard table they were to shift out of their auntie Glen's basement, Andrew and Shane cursed their late Uncle Rog for his utter lack of forethought. Auntie Glen had hated 'the heavy red beast' from the moment Uncle Rog had won it in a Kiwanis raffle and insisted, against her advisement, on heaving it down the stairs and setting it in the middle of their tiny den, only to discover that there wasn't enough room on the sides to slide a pool cue, and leaving it to sit for the next six years as a repository for every item Glen had ever asked him to put away in storage.
Mercy! Oh, that 2015 will bring mercy is what I wish for all in this house. We need a break from the sadness and the madness. No more knocks for Miranda and Grace, Erica and Douglas, except the knocking that we do ourselves, at new doors, which we hope will open and welcome us to fresh and nourishing adventures.
Scrutinizing herself in mirror, Sheila muttered disappointedly 'Well Pasty, two weeks on the Adriatic and you still looked as pale as you did the day you left Toronto. Go get some sun!' She grabbed her blue halter bathing suit from her bed; the one that claimed to boost a sagging bosom and smooth a bulging belly, but which Sheila thought did neither particularly effectively. She wiggled and shoved herself into it and shouted towards the the cabin bathroom 'Amanda, Where's the tanning oil?" From behind the door her sister hastily responded "It's where it always is, it's in the red burlap bag."and returned to vomiting up whatever was left of her insides after suffering from almost two weeks of daily bouts of what she referred to as 'sea sickness', but which was more likely the result of nightly Sangria drinking jags in the ship disco. Sheila grabbed the bag from beside Amanda's bed, reached in and grabbed the small dark green bottle marked Athena XV from the bag, 'SPF 15 should be alright, if I'm careful', she thought, and hastily slathered herself with the contents. Within moments of oiling her chest and arms, a familiar smell, reminding her more of the dining hall than the sun deck, met her nostrils. Sheila picked up the bottle that she'd tossed on the bedside table, and twisted it around to looked more carefully at the label - 'Athena XV Olive Oil'. A Memento purchased front their last trip ashore. Hopefully Amanda would soon be out of the bathroom.
It's more hit than miss.
Like a tanker striking upon an iceberg
It's sinking metal ripped to shreds.
Like a maniac with a rifle
aiming at your head.
Like a mother taunting you with the tragedy
of a boy who won't leave you alone.
Like a lover mired in bitterness
who leaves you to lie in pain and moan.
Like a missile crashing in a bunker
designed to save your life,
Like a brother enraged with jealousy
who sets out to steal your wife.
Like a friend who doesn't ever hear you.
Like your self when you don't care.
There are moments in this life of your
that will be ever hard to bear.
'It'll amount to nothing.' said Sarah. 'Basically, you go in there, they take you though a mock interview that they pretend is the real thing, and then either Adam or Terry gets to decide if you're hot enough to go get them latte's until their bored with you. They're a couple of asshats, if you ask me. But, good luck, if it's what you want'
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writing since 2014 · 46 entries · 43 days shown up
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