The exercise:
Write about: the dysfunctional family.
Kat and I (and Max too, I guess) have recently discovered Raising Hope on Netflix. Holy mercy, so funny. Check it out if you haven't done so already.
Mine:
The house is silent, which can mean only one thing: not a soul is within.
If the father was home the TV would be on, or the stereo, or possibly both at the same time. He likes to drown out the constant tumult in his life with noises he could cheer on, or at least dance to. Not that he favored any particular team, or danced very well.
If the mother was home she would be on the phone. With her own mother, with girlfriends, with men she should not have been on the phone with. Another sure sign of her presence? The haze of cigarette smoke that obscures the interior of the home from curious onlookers across the street.
If the girl was home... well, that's such a rare occasion that we shall waste no time on it.
And the boy? Nearing his teens and not yet potty trained, surely he would be whining about something. The lack of ice cream in the freezer, most likely. Or, to be more precise, the lack of the right kind of ice cream in the freezer.
No, if there is even a hint of calm and peace around this house, it is due solely to abandonment. That is, assuming the dog hasn't finally snapped and killed them all.
3 comments:
Two scoops. One vanilla. One chocolate. Only two tonight, as we are out of strawberry. Dairy covered. Chocolate sauce. Whipped cream. Cherry on top. Fruits and veggies, check.
The phone rings.
“Yes, mom. Ok mom. Yes, I can put myself to sleep.”
Click
Nuts. I forgot the nuts. Protein, check.
@David: very stream of consciousness, with just a sly reference to the title. Nice!
@Marc: With the prompt title of 'dysfunctional family' I was wondering what could be going on in your life until I read the next paragraph! I've not seen Raising Hope, but I've heard a tiny little bit about it. I'll put it on my 'things not to ignore' list :)
I like your dog in today's piece :) I also like all of the little vignettes, particularly the boy, with the mother next.
Dysfunctional family
Dr. Fraud leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen against his teeth. Not his actual teeth, in his mouth as it were, but the set of articulated teeth he'd bought off eBay, where they'd been sold as belonging to a now-dead vampire. They sounded hollow.
"This cannot be an Electra complex," he said, his Austrian accent a little thicker than normal. "Your father is dead, and you are a man."
"The nanny killed my father!" said the middle-aged man on the couch. He was muscular and looked younger than his 44 years, and was constantly squeezing a grip machine. "She killed him with the urn containing my mother's ashes!"
"So the report says," said Dr. Fraud picking up a manila folder and opening it. "There was something odd about the urn, as I recall...."
"It was made from my grandmother's skull," said the man on the couch hotly. "It was a family heirloom!"
"Oh yes," said Dr. Fraud. He tapped his teeth again, liking the pocking noise they made. "And how did your grandmother die?"
"Her sisters drowned her in an ornamental fishpond in the gardens of a stately home after she hit one of them with a rake."
"Oh yes." Dr. Fraud sighed with pleasure. "There is so much here to work through. Book yourself another twenty appointments."
David - very nicely done, really enjoyed the subtlety here :)
Greg - I would say twenty appointments would only begin to dent the surface on this one!
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