Tagged: parent

Trudy Looked at the Pamphlet

  • by jenIs your skin too loose?
  • as double-jointed as a trained mime
  • biting her lip furiously
  • the lewd cartoon
  • he blushed like a boy
  • toxic sludge in the neighborhood

Trudy looked at the pamphlet in her hand, biting her lip furiously to keep from smiling. Ever since the EPA found toxic sludge in the neighborhood, they’d been getting stuff like this in the mail – offers for all kinds of services that would solve all of their alleged problems.

“Is your skin too loose?” was the headline on this one. Trudy handed it to her father who opened it to read the details. As he scanned he blushed like a boy.

Trudy looked over his shoulder to see what the problem was. Presumably it was the illustration that embarrassed him so. The lewd cartoon depicted a woman as double-jointed as a trained mime who was demonstrating just how loose her skin was.

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“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!”

  • by jenhe was like a cat pouncing
  • immobility his eyebrow moved
  • noticed the colour of your dressing gown
  • rather the Latin temperament
  • Not even a compromising bequest!
  • a most awkward mistake
  • They die, yes

“No, no, no, no, no, Chico!” screamed Thelonious Tharp, and Chico Desideria knew that once again he had made a most awkward mistake. Chico both admired and despised his choreographer and mentor, Thelonious. Admired him for the way that when he danced he was like a cat pouncing, despised him because he possessed rather the Latin temperament and made no move to disguise it.

Chico knew what mistake he’d made this time. He was supposed to prance and cavort, leap awkwardly in time to the arrhythmic music, and then freeze. But despite his required immobility his eyebrow moved. Thelonious was livid, as usual.

“Chico, today when you left the dressing room I noticed the colour of your dressing gown had changed and I hoped that your attitude had changed along with your sartorial choices. I was wrong! You are as useless as ever! And you know, don’t you Chico, what the parents of one as unimpressive as you do? They die, yes, die! Of shame! And they leave nothing to their disappointing offspring, Chico. Not even a compromising bequest!”

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As Winifred Sat Nervously in the Examination Room

  • by jenwearing a neatly trimmed beard
  • like most parents
  • Apparently you know Mr Scroggins
  • almost eerily quiet
  • a secret I can’t discuss
  • license plate number of the truck
  • a product of artificial insemination
  • almost as tall as the diving platform

As Winifred sat nervously in the examination room, her mind was filled by the license plate number of the truck driven by her abductors – XYZ 3499 – over and over in a loop.

The entire facility she now found herself in was almost eerily quiet, even though it was fully staffed with medical and military personnel.

A bald man wearing a neatly trimmed beard entered the room without knocking. Following was a tall man Winifred recognized immediately. The bald man saw her look of surprise and said, “Apparently you know Mr Scroggins.”

“It’s hard not to notice him around town,” said Winifred. “He’s almost as tall as the diving platform at the YMCA.”

Both men chuckled.

“You may well wonder why we’ve brought you here,” said Mr Scroggins.

Winifred nodded.

“Like most parents in this situation, yours did not want you to know you are a product of artificial insemination.”

Winifred gasped. It was surprising news, but did help explain a comment her mother had once made: “I have a secret I can’t discuss with you or your father.”

The bald man interrupted her memory. “Your mother thought she was inseminated with the sperm of a Nobel Laureate. Unfortunately this was not the case…”

He let the ominous sentence hang there and Winifred’s imagination raced.

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Stefano Shifted his Considerable Bulk

  • k-avatarcoughed and reached for his rum
  • gave a big, guttural grunt of pleasure
  • I’m not a machine
  • I can’t even offer you a drink
  • fat arms curved around his daughters
  • and then a stream of bubbles

Stefano shifted his considerable bulk in the murky hot tub, gave a big, guttural grunt of pleasure, and then a stream of bubbles paraded to the surface.

“Your request tugs at my heart,” he grumbled distractedly, his fat arms curved around his daughters, each girl almost as rotund, and hirsute, as their father. “I understand your plight. I’m not a machine.”

He then coughed and reached for his rum while we fidgeted and dreaded the inevitable refusal of our boon. Stefano upended the bottle into his mouth, swallowing greedily.

“But there’s nothing I can do,” he drawled, before extracting the last of the fluid from the bottle. “I can’t even offer you a drink.”

And so, my brothers and I resigned ourselves to performing our trapeze act without a net.

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No Matter What You May Be Thinking

  • eby jenffluvia on his desk
  • robes of office
  • dark bulk
  • “Mom! Mom!” he cried
  • everyone is offering him money
  • a story about prostitution
  • a late snack
  • waverings and backslidings

No matter what you may be thinking, this is not a story about prostitution, full of waverings and backslidings of the moral variety, but ultimately ending with redemption for the hooker with the heart of gold. This is a different sort of story altogether – although it is about prostitution. It is less like a smorgasbord of character development, deep, timeless themes, and witty prose, and more like a late snack of pure porn.

The judge stands in the shadowy corner of his chambers, his robes of office rendering him a mere dark bulk to Effluvia’s eyes. She knows everyone is offering him money to rule in their favor, but Effluvia doesn’t have much money. So she is offering him her body.

He stands in the corner, staring at the reclining Effluvia on his desk, nude and legs akimbo.

“Mom! Mom!” he cried, suddenly recognizing her.

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Heinrich Floats Face-Down

  • k-avatarnibbled by snails
  • you selfish bitch
  • Germany’s not the holy land
  • chin, belly and balls are jutting promontories
  • grey stucco urinal
  • always so malignant

Heinrich floats face-down in the vast aquarium; his chin, belly and balls are jutting promontories nibbled by snails that have slithered up the sides of the tank. His buttocks and snorkel protrude above the surface; they bulge forth into the air and give landing space to multicolored insect life.

In Heinrich’s memory, his mother’s voice assaults him. “Germany’s not the holy land,” she says icily. Well, neither is Queens, you selfish bitch.

Her words were always so malignant, like the smell of the grey stucco urinal in the back room of the “pet store” where Heinrich found solace among his invertebrate friends, and their nibbling.

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After My Ankle Surgery

  • by jennever pick up a stray kitten
  • don’t strain yourself
  • We should get married more often
  • a cuddlesome wench on each side
  • He pointed at my foot
  • I wiggled like a puppy

After my ankle surgery, my mother just wouldn’t shut up with the “helpful” advice. “Don’t strain yourself,” she insisted. “You don’t want to open the stitches back up.”

“Sure, Ma,” I repeated into the phone, but she wasn’t happy until I promised to never pick up a stray kitten again. I couldn’t really blame her for worrying. The last kitten had hidden beneath the sofa and swiped her talons right through my achilles tendon, thus necessitating the surgery.

My new husband came into the room, followed by the doctor with a cuddlesome wench on each side. Nurses, I assumed.

The doctor sat on the edge of my bed. He pointed at my foot. “Feeling better now?” he asked, and then tickled the sole. I wiggled like a puppy shaking itself dry.

“Good,” said the doctor, and he left, taking the cuddlesome wenches with him.

“I’m sorry we have to spend our honeymoon in the hospital,” I said to my husband.

“We should get married more often,” he laughed.

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Flew Back To Colorado Springs

During October we will be sharing passages that we’ve written independently from the same prompt.

  • flew back to Colorado Springs
  • teaches him all a beggar’s tricks
  • redwood does not decay
  • supposed to be in stock in San Jose
  • date with a mulatto gal

Kent’s Take

Rick flew back to Colorado Springs for a date with a mulatto gal who teaches him all a beggar’s tricks. And he took my sandals, because redwood does not decay when exposed to even his vitriolic foot sweat. I still don’t have replacement sandals, because I’m a triple-E. But my size is supposed to be in stock in San Jose.

 

Jen’s Take

by jenRedwood does not decay. That’s the whole point. That’s what makes it so perfect for constructing lawn furniture. But of course, the set I wanted was out of stock at my local Ikea. It was supposed to be in stock in San Jose, though, so I flew out there to get it. Because redwood does not decay.

So, of course, they don’t have it in San Jose either. Someone bought the last one right before I got there. They gave me a free bag of Swedish meatballs for my trouble. I wish I was one of those guys whose dad teaches him all a beggar’s tricks so that I could have gotten more than the meatballs and a date with a mulatto gal out of the trip. But I’m not. My dad only taught me about fishing.

Anyway, after that I flew back to Colorado Springs and my plane was late due to fog at O’Hare. And that’s why I missed work yesterday. Honest.

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What do you think? Who handled this prompt better?

As The Mumu Princess

  • by jenMay your rod soften!
  • perhaps a seal
  • now she was all sweet decorum
  • the Mumu princess came down
  • where the clumped kelp grew
  • upon one elbow

As the mumu princess came down the church aisle, Lola the wedding planner admired her fanciful wedding gown, especially where the clumped kelp grew upon one elbow in the shape of an aquatic mammal — perhaps a seal, perhaps a sea lion.

It was a miracle they’d gotten the stubborn girl out of her mumus. Lola and her staff had earned their money there. With the help of the bride’s own father they’d convinced her something dressier than a flowing, shapeless robe was called for.

The mumu princess was furious with her father for interfering. She’d even yelled, “May your rod soften!” which seemed to Lola a wholly inappropriate insult to hurl at one’s father.

The mumu princess’s anger cooled eventually, she acquiesced, and now she was all sweet decorum.

Lola wished her new husband luck.

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You Told Me

  • by jenI spat at her
  • “Oh my head!”
  • but Charles had no son
  • dropped her ample chin
  • a madman’s mocking game
  • the butler put my cloak

“You told me that Charles and his son were conspiring to make a fool of me, Mother! You said he did not love me! That it was nothing more than a madman’s mocking game! But Charles had no son, and no daughter either.”

My mother dropped her ample chin to her even more ample bosom and moaned, “Oh my head!”

I spat at her and stormed away to find where the butler put my cloak. I never wanted to see my filthy, lying mother again.

I would marry Charles, no matter that he was 40 years older than I, and my mother’s object of obsession.

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