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 Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 5:34 am
[ page uno contents ]
+ Knock, knock, delivery / SOLO
+ Aberinkula / PRP
+ You and me makes three / SOLO
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 5:35 am
» knock, knock, delivery
Grace stared blankly at the abnormally large cabbage resting against the front-door, her eyebrows drawn. What was this, some practical joke she wasn't unaware of? Were the new neighbors hicks with warped ideas of who exactly gave the house-warming gifts? Humming curiously, Grace lowered herself on to her knees, turning the vegetable over in her hands before letting out a startled grunt; a nail hammered carelessly into the underside of the cabbage (supporting a worn, yellow note) had suddenly dug into her palm. Ripping away the note, Grace opened her mouth in bewilderment as she read over the haphazard scrawl.
- - -
Gracie,
Heard you had a kid, so congratulations I guess. Figured since you were starting your own brood you might appreciate another, free of all the pushing and counting and breathing and bleeding. Mom says ******** you, dad died of a heart-attack last year, Sarah sends her apologies to the kids and I couldn't give a flying ********. Look after the cabbage or you might be charged with murder.
- Angus
- - -
Grace brought her hands to her face and pressed two fingers against her temples, rubbing them in slow circles. ********. Her brother had, what, sent her a cabbage as his final move in their twisted game of cat and mouse? Was it a bomb? A part of some secret Government-funded project that would lead to her arrest? ********, she was coming up with far more questions than answers. ******** ********, she was over-cursing. With a frustrated sigh, Grace pulled the cabbage to her chest and tried not to dwell on its purpose, though admittedly part of her was fascinated. With an undignified snort, Grace pulled herself away from useless, meandering thoughts and turned, kicking the door shut and placing the cabbage on the dining table.
"Angus, you're killin' me. Your explosive hate for my being has lead to a cabbage."
Grace turned and began digging through the fridge and pantry, pulling out any food that was easily accessible and piling it onto the table. Pulling her hair back from her shoulders, she turned to raid the kitchen cabinets, piling lightweight, sturdy pots and pans, plastic cups and china dishes that stacked neatly inside of one another beside an array of fresh fruit, vegetables, sauces and sandwich meats. Grace considered the table contents before cupping her hands over her mouth and turning towards the door, ready to yell out to Lucien, but instead turned her head to the table, her train of thought coming to a screeching halt; did that cabbage just move? Grace steeled herself with a frown, moving forward to touch the cabbage lightly. At her touch, a silver light and a soft ping caused her to start, her mouth opening and closing in confusion.
Did that cabbage just spit out the nail?
"What in the name of all that is holy," Grace mumbled, backing away from the offending vegetable. What the hell was Angus playing at? The jackass actually sent her a bomb, didn't he? -- her entire house was about to go up in some apocalyptic explosion. Peering over the table cautiously, Grace made her way towards the wall and knelt down to scoop the nail into her hand. She lifted her eyebrows, returning her attention back to the green-leafed vegetable, her body stiff and wary. No, no, she was being ridiculous, there was probably some super obvious and altogether logical reason as to why the nail went flying through the air -- that cabbage was an ordinary cabbage and Angus was just trying to make her paranoid, the ********. With a snort, Grace pocketed the nail and turned back towards the unmade feast, cupping her hands around her mouth once more.
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 5:51 am
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Posted: Mon Mar 16, 2009 7:15 am
» you and me makes three
It was late morning, almost eleven thirty, when Grace finally awoke, hung-over and seedy. She swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste in her mouth and the congested feeling in her chest. She moved to hang her legs over the side of the mattress, swinging them pensively before pulling herself from the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom, scrubbing a hand across her face. She looked awful: her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks blotchy and there was a collection of crust at the crook of her lips that was either saliva or vomit (she did down an entire bottle shop during the night). Her hair was limp against her forehead, and the skin beneath her eyes was dark and as thin as rice paper.
Still, it was justified -- who the ******** would send her another child? She was the complete opposite of maternal, and while she wasn't a bad mother, she wasn't a particularly good one either. Angus was probably having field day at the thought of her struggling with another drooling toddler, the twisted s**t -- raising one child had already pushed her to the limit, how the hell was she supposed to raise two? Goddamn it, she hadn't even wanted children to begin with. Grace felt the blood start to drain from her face, her limbs feeling strangely weighted and her feet rooted to the floor. She shook herself sharply, trying to focus -- there was nothing she could do but accept the situation. That cabbage was going to pop out a kid eventually, and she was going to have to clean it, feed it, entertain it and raise ******** ******** ******** ******** ******** lip twitched wryly, a heavy leaden feeling settling into her chest. She swallowed hard and slumped, turning her still skeptical gaze toward the cabbage settled comfortably against her bed-side table, her shoulders sagging. The rest of the day passed in something of a blur. Grace made herself and Lucien food and ate it, lost herself in playing with him, looking after him, fighting the urge to pace restlessly and trying desperately not to think about how on earth she was going to pull off looking after another child.
Falling back into bed, Grace pulled a pillow from the side opposite to her, hugging it tightly to her chest and breathing deeply. She was alone, aching and desperately missing the feel of anothers chest rising and falling beneath her ear -- the warmth that radiated between two bodies curled around each other; someone to share this disaster of a situation with, to help guide her in the right direction. Lucien stood silently at the foot of the bed, bundled in his over-sized pajamas and blanket, gazing down at Grace's drawn-in figure. The older woman's cheeks were wet with tears, visible in the moonlight that leaked through the small window. The small boy lowered himself onto the mattress, crawling towards Grace and settling behind her, his arms wrapping around her waist.
Grace started, twisting around and grabbing Lucien by the shoulders, but her expression softened at the sight of the boy. She pulled him over her body and onto the pillow beside her, tucking his blanket around his sides and leaning forward to kiss his forehead.
She supposed he was enough for now.
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Posted: Wed Apr 01, 2009 9:44 am
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