Sunday May 13th, 2012

The exercise:

Let us write about: sloppiness.

Took the morning pretty easy today after a long yesterday. In the afternoon Kat's dad and I did some more work on the deck, making some nice, visible progress. It's now bolted into the side of the house for stability and we got the first three joists in place.

This evening we went up to Kat's parent's place for a Mother's Day dinner for Kat's mom and my very own mom-to-be. And now... I am sleepy.


Kelly stood leaning against the door frame, surveying her son's room. As her eyes took in the three inch deep pile of clothes on the floor, the pizza box on his bedside table (ordered three nights previous and still holding two slices in its stiff clutches), and unfinished homework covering the bed, she contemplated asking the mayor to declare the place a disaster area.

No, she thought with a firm shake of her head, that would just get Jason out of cleaning this mess up himself.

She'd tried withholding dinner but he'd just escaped to Blake's house to fill his growling belly. Threatened to confiscate his phone and he'd just looked confused before asking her which one he should hand over.

So, after consulting with his absent father, she'd settled on a more drastic solution. Kelly felt a twinge of something in her belly as she lit the match, but she pretended not to as she flicked it into the room and closed the door.


Greg said...

The deck sounds like it's coming along well. Are you taking photographs at the end of each day so you can how the progress goes and show us the best at the end?
I'm not sure who the sloppiness of the title refers to in your piece today! That little match is going to cause Kelly so much trouble...!

Sylvestra gazed at the swimming pool. She had had no idea that the Council of Nastiness business housed a swimming pool, though it didn't really surprise her that it was in the sub-basement, and she was certain she wasn't going to swim in it, just in case the Green Lightbulb had swum in there first. But now... something had gelatinised the water, and it quivered gently as she looked at it. She stretched out a barge-pole, which she'd bought some years ago to make a point to Green, and prodded it. It slopped back and forth gently, hypnotically.
"Have you noticed?" asked Dr. Septopus quietly. She started, she'd not heard him creep up on her.
"Noticed what?"
"There's no smell of chlorine," he said. "I don't think the water's gelatinized, I think something's drunk up all the water and replaced it."
"Probably not. By the way, how many of him are there still?"
"Too many," was her immediate response, but she knew that Dr. Septopus knew that she considered one Green Lightbulb to be too many so she qualified it: "At least five."
"Ah. The deluminator was supposed to eliminate all but one Lightbulb," he sighed, clacking his beak.
"Sloppy work, Doctor," she said, chiding only gently. Behind them the pool slopped from side to side a little more violently.

Iron Bess said...

Busy, busy, busy...painting, drywalling, sanding...etc.

Jan hated going into Stephanie’s office, it was always so clean. It made her uncomfortable and a little queasy. If Steph’s desk ever had a file on it, it was the one she was working on. Not like her desk which looked like the office version of The Horders television show.

Stephanie’s office always smelled like some kind of tropical citrus which everyone always commented on. “Oh it smells just like my trip to Hawaii.” Or, “I love that smell. Where do you buy it?” Jan knew her office smelled of dust, mold, and old feet. Whenever anyone walked into her office she could tell they were trying to breath through their mouth so they wouldn’t gag.

Steph’s floor was always glossy and clean. How did she do that? They both worked in a coal mine, and her office always had a thick layer of mud on it from the guys wandering in and out with their work boots on. She knew the same guys always went into Stephanie’s office as well. Did she have a hidden broom and mop in her file cabinet which she could pull out and ratchet together?

And the worst of it was that even though Stephanie looked fresh, unhurried, and as if she never worked a minute of her day, she always had her projects done on time, always had time to help anyone who asked for help, and never had a bad thing to say about anyone, even when they couldn’t find a critical contract which went missing in the swamp which was Jan’s office.

“Oh hi Jan. You’re the first one to arrive,” Stephanie said. “Come in and sit down, have a doughnut, I bought them for the meeting.”

“Of course you did,” Jan muttered before reaching for her favourite, double chocolate glazed. Jan watched in horror as it slipped from the end of her fingers and plopped on the floor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Stephanie said shrugging her shoulders. “I’ll clean it up later, it doesn’t bother me I’m such a slob.”

Morrigan Aoife said...

The words had been hastily copied from Milo Macabre’s coveted black book and carried off into the night by pilfering hands. In the wee hours of the very next morning the contents of that same parchment along with the promise of a reanimation ritual were sold to Stella De Marco of Dire Grove for 20 gold pieces.

Never mind that the ink had smudged or that Oliver Bane had no idea how to pronounce the words scribbled upon the page in foreign tongue. The exchange was a good one and one that would keep him fed for weeks. True to his word Oliver intended to fulfill his end of the barter to the best of his ability. No matter how shoddy his skill, it would be done.

Sure he felt poorly about befriending Milo’s apprentice, Nathaniel Knox, with the ultimate intention of betraying him in the end. Nathaniel had been a good friend, a loyal friend, but business was business and being of low moral fiber Oliver had already convinced himself that a full belly and warm hearth were worth any price.

Standing at the foot of Cosmo’s grave a frightened Stella De Marco watched as Oliver yelled into the air commanding an unseen presence, demanding the soul of Cosmo De Marco be released from death. The winds picked up and Oliver held the soiled scroll tighter willing it not to blow away.

Sweat poured down his grimy face as he stumbled over word after spoken word. Finally, he pointed a grubby finger at the shade emerging from the mist. Stella screamed and promptly fainted seeing not the husband she loved but a slovenly dressed rotting corpse traipsing through the muddy grounds of the cemetery.

Marc said...

Greg - I've taken a few 'in progress' pictures that I'm planning on sharing along with the finished product.

Wonderfully creepy scene. That is one sinister pool.

Iron Bess - glad you were able to find time for a visit with us :)

Ah ha, love that final line. So typical of people like that. So infuriating.

Morrigan - loving the winding ins and outs of this story and the way you've been able to weave it together through the various prompts. Very impressive work, and highly enjoyable to boot!

Anonymous said...

Marc- Your piece is very Greg-esque today. I'm not saying that is a bad thing.... unless of course, you view his stories as tips on how to raise a child.

I have actually posted this 3 times now, but every time I try to submit it, I am asked if I would like to create a google account. It seems, perhaps, that things are not fixed as I had thought. So annoying!

Eva sat stirring the corn on her plate. Her head rested heavily on the closed fist of her hand. She sighed heavily, a bid for attention, and left her corn for the small pile of diced peaches. Her fork scraped against the glass plate. She glanced up, but I continued to read, ignoring the pleas for attention that I knew would just lead to an argument. It’s how we had lived for the last few weeks. She sat and sighed, I checked to see what was wrong, food would ultimately be splattered across the table and floor as I yelled at her to clean it up. My frustration would lead to tears and she would walk away, spending her triumph in giggles.

I heard the top of her hamburger bun softly thud on the floor and her even softer “oops.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. As she started tapping her fork on the plate, I recognized that it wasn’t going to work. Deep breaths, ignoring her, none of it was going to work. It wasn’t in my nature to be so passive.

I smiled, put the book down, walked to the silverware drawer and got out a small spoon. “Mama, I don’t want to eat this,” my little Eva said as I sat down opposite from her.

I leaned in close to her. “I thought that was what you were going to say.” Then leaning a little bit closer I whispered conspiratorially, “What do you think we should do with it?”

I could tell the game had changed. She sat silent, contemplating for a few seconds and then responded defiantly. “I want to make a mess.”

Taking a scoop of sloppy joes, I looked at her and said “Okay.” Watching the look of shock on her face as the sloppy joes splattered across her chest was going to make cleaning up this mess so worth it.

Marc said...

Heatherymous - ah, silly Blogger :/

Hahaha, now that is a solid child raising tip in my books! Fantastic.