Merry Christmas?
Flash Fiction - Merry Christmas?
The Christmas tunes seemed to be on a loop. Fairly sure I had heard that song three or four times while creating dinner for six with a one burner stove. It’s making me feel a bit cranky actually!
The burner is only working on high. I can actually feel my eyebrows furrow. And I am thinking unChristmasy thoughts. Like how can golf clubs and fishing equipment be more important than the stove. I shake my head again. I look up and see the pot of brown liquid is already boiling. Adhering to the bottom of the pot large black globs come up with each swirl of the spoon. Nineteen years still haven’t managed to fix the stove. Pondering a good cry....Jingle Bells is playing again. I hate bells.
More puppy pee! Sliding across the kitchen I nearly dumped the gravy. Frank came around the corner just in time to see me land, gravy boat upright. He cocked his head, whistled and walked away. Why do we have a puppy? Why is the stove dying?
No one was leaving despite the more than two hour delay in dinner. I still think we should have opened gifts while the turkey was in the oven. 116! The degrees to fry an egg on the sidewalk yet 60 degrees shy of safe eating. I start opening cupboards. How expired is unsafe anyway? The freezer is full of nothing but ice pops. Our ‘kid’ is 23. Who lives here anyway?
Pizza boxes stacked on the counter. Plates everywhere. Turkey a brisk 80. Jingle Bells is wrapping up. My sock is wet.
JLG(C) 1.3.2020
The Christmas tunes seemed to be on a loop. Fairly sure I had heard that song three or four times while creating dinner for six with a one burner stove. It’s making me feel a bit cranky actually!
The burner is only working on high. I can actually feel my eyebrows furrow. And I am thinking unChristmasy thoughts. Like how can golf clubs and fishing equipment be more important than the stove. I shake my head again. I look up and see the pot of brown liquid is already boiling. Adhering to the bottom of the pot large black globs come up with each swirl of the spoon. Nineteen years still haven’t managed to fix the stove. Pondering a good cry....Jingle Bells is playing again. I hate bells.
More puppy pee! Sliding across the kitchen I nearly dumped the gravy. Frank came around the corner just in time to see me land, gravy boat upright. He cocked his head, whistled and walked away. Why do we have a puppy? Why is the stove dying?
No one was leaving despite the more than two hour delay in dinner. I still think we should have opened gifts while the turkey was in the oven. 116! The degrees to fry an egg on the sidewalk yet 60 degrees shy of safe eating. I start opening cupboards. How expired is unsafe anyway? The freezer is full of nothing but ice pops. Our ‘kid’ is 23. Who lives here anyway?
Pizza boxes stacked on the counter. Plates everywhere. Turkey a brisk 80. Jingle Bells is wrapping up. My sock is wet.
JLG(C) 1.3.2020
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