Functioning at a Dysfunctional Function

‘Eating meat this year, Jen?’

‘Your sister’s name is Jenny,’ Mum said, wiping palms down her apron, following Dad’s swagger from the kitchen carrying the prize turkey.

Jenny’s fingertips traced the delicate outline of the crocheted threads in Grandma’s lacework spread across the food-laden table. A silent witness to another annual passing parade of corrupt cousins, divorced aunts, and derelict uncles.

 ‘I’ll answer to both, even bitch,’ Jenny said with a grin.

Dad’s exaggerated knife blade to steel swipes stopped. ‘No swearing, young lady.’

‘Talking about age, Jenny, I’m not seeing any grandchildren or husband seated beside you. Not like your brother with his family.’

Jenny side-glanced at her bully brother, the suppressed sister-in-law and their puppet perfect children. Yes, TV lands happy families existed – and they were PC, paper-cut-out, boring. ‘I’ll eat white meat, thanks. Looks great.’

‘You’re always avoiding my question.’

‘Didn’t I answer the food question?’

‘She did,’ said Dad, dishing out slabs of hacked turkey. ‘Still with Charlie?’

Mum’s head swivelled like an owl. ‘Is this the same Charlie you mentioned last year?’

Jenny nodded, forking her food, avoiding eye contact.

‘That’s a year,’ Mum’s said with eyelids narrowing. ‘Do you think Charlie will marry you?’

Another nod. A shrug. ‘We’d like to.’ Shovelling another mouthful.

‘Slow down – don’t you get fed upstate? Or you’re going for the plate clearing record, sis.’

‘Who’s Charlie,’ demanded Mum, ‘and when will we meet him?’

‘You won’t meet him.’ Jenny sipped her water because wine for women was disallowed at her mother’s table.

‘Why not?’

‘Because Charlie’s a female.’ Jenny stood up as cutlery dropped onto everyone else’s plates. She wiped her chin on the napkin, folded it up and grinned. ‘Thanks for dinner, might see ya next year.’ And left them all to digest.

Date Night Drama

As a gentleman, he opened the door and she stepped inside. Then lunged like a savage, pushing her against the closing door. Chests pressed. He latched onto her locks, forcing her head back. Lips parted, licking into her sweet, hot mouth as if indulging in the intoxicating taste of a new lover.

Hearts hammered, pulses pounded. Ravenous hands raked at her skirt, while his lips lavished her smooth sensuous throat. Her purring moan a Siren’s soul song, drowning him within this tsunami of inflamed emotions.

Her knee lifted, steering his palm that slid along sumptuous silk stockings towards lace. A chesty growl escaped while touching his temptress’s sinful fleshy thighs. His mouth watered, body shuddered. Feverish fingers fondled her voluptuous curves, so soft, yielding, trembling against his hardened hunger.

Humanity surrendered, as the primal inner beast unleashed. Pinning his seductress to the wall, he rocked against Nirvana’s door.

“EWW.” From behind them, the young woman dry retched.

They froze.

“Thanks a lot! I’m scarred for life. Damaged.” Palm slapped over eyes, gagging, she staggered away with milk and cookies in hand. A door slammed and loud music erupted.

“That’s our cue.” Lifting his lady to his chest. Wrapped her legs around his waist.

Laughing, she ripped off his tie. “For once, I’m not telling her to turn the music down.”

He carried his prize along the hall. “Hey, if we keep this up the kids should move out soon. Twenty years of marriage, baby – we’ve still got it.” And kick-slammed their bedroom shut behind them.

(250 words)

Part of flash fiction collection found in HOME SWEET ~ NOT!

HSN TW2

#HOMESWEETNOT #RuralRomanticRamblings #RandRramblings

 

Graduation

Graduating, already. Next its university, marriage, and then I’ll be a grandfather. Old. Like my father hunched over crossword puzzles grumbling about medical costs. Yet, there’s my little girl on stage. We did so well, and I can’t help but hold my wife’s hand. Swear I’m blinking as fast as my heart’s hammering. I’d better make a Doctor’s appointment…

Ugh, why does my husband have to be so clingy with his sweaty palms, when I’m trying to take photos? Should’ve bought a better camera. Should’ve had photography lessons instead of mosaic classes. Aw, my baby looks so beautiful. Should’ve had her hair curled. Should’ve made her wear that other dress. Should’ve changed those ribbons because they don’t match her shoes…

Man, I can’t see bugger-all! Boo hoo, my baby sister’s gettin’ an award. Not like she kicked a winnin’ goal for the team. Mum’s playin’ photographic diva again. Swear she’s gonna get blocked on Facebook if she posts tonight’s barfarama. On no, my old man’s gonna cry. Hope no one from the team’s here. Man, will this freaking preschooler’s concert ever end…

(182 words)

from the Flash Fiction Collection:  HOME SWEET ~ NOT!

Home Sweet Not - by Mel A Rowe

#RuralRomanticRamblings #RandRramblings #HomeSweetNot