A new flash fiction prompt from Melissa, to write something from this pic.
“Mom, stop, we’ve talked about this, it’s a different day. Artie and I have told you, plus you know I can’t, I have messed up insides, we just can’t, just deal with Chrissy and Semblance (of a cat) and Penelope.
Now are you good?
Ok, I’ll check in with you every five minutes … just kiddng … every ten.
Well, we’re off, I’ll bring you back some seashells and sand glass”
Dad was a prick.
There was a time where Mom and Dad were good, for like 5 minutes, I remember them actually, specifically, each one, tick tock, he kissed her on her forehead and seemed genuine on this forehead just before he had made breakfast and wished us well at the bus stop, where we dreamed he might even start his fancy car in eventual winter and let us sit, but … tick tock …
Mom loved him with all her heart, she didn’t know anyone or anything else other than him and he knew that in his running around.
“Mom, relax they are cats, now here are the things you can and cannot do with cats …”
I had a list.
Jesus, is that what I have come about? Explaining to my mother the taking care of cats and making lists?
I met Artie just out of college, he was the boss guy’s son at my new possible gig’s small box store but dreaming bigger. Maybe a spot where my new degree would matter and give me an in but …
“Oh hey, Marcie, where are those shoes you were wearing?”
“Oh hey, Marcie, where is that blouse from Tuesday’s interview, with the low flowers?”
“Oh hey, Marcie, we’re going out for drinks after work“
Then Mom said, for the war effort, they have good sniffers, cats, might find bombs, don’t tell your tell your Dad though and I got them, your “kids” by the way, especially Semblance (I love her) they’ll be fine. We just have a thing on Tuesday … Semblance and I, don’t worry.
Oh, and fuck him, he doesn’t like cats and how much does lyme cost these days by the way?
frankenberrysattic.com 