Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

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Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Brian » Tue Nov 23, 2010 4:42 am


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Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Brian » Tue Nov 23, 2010 4:42 am

Your mother-in-law has never liked you very much, so when she comes over and says she “wants to get to know you better,” you are instantly suspicious. You are convinced that that isn’t at all what she wants, and you decide to play detective and find out what is going on. The first things you notice are that she has an odd cut on her arm and that she is carrying a rubber chicken that is missing a foot. Write this scene.

You can post your response (750 words or fewer) here.

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Ab0utTheAuth0r » Tue Nov 23, 2010 11:27 am

I'm Excited! Let's Go!



'Mama Medusa'

“So, let me get this straight… Your Momma-in-law comes to visit, and not even a day later she’s already man-handling you in your own house?” Deon asked with laughter flooding his voice. I sucked my teeth loudly; Deon always seemed to find humor in my troubled scenarios.

“Come on now, nobody has me shook. I wear the Levi’s in this house.” I responded.

“Then why are you whispering?” Deon said in a sarcastic whisper.

“Because I swear she is into that Voodoo black magic whatchamacallit.”

“Now Reggie, everybody from Louisiana isn’t associated with witchcraft; stop being so stereotypical.”

“Oh yeah? Then explain why I saw a rubber chicken with one foot in her luggage?”

“…”

“yeah… now tell me that I’m overreacting.”

“Well for one, you ARE overreacting. Two, maybe she has a part time gig as a magician. Or better yet, maybe she supports the handicap animal movement.”

“Handicap Animal movement… Really Deon? That’s your theory, a Special Olympics for Cock-a-doodles?” We both laughed at the direction this conversation was heading.

“I still think you’re overreacting, and why in the world were you snooping through her belongings anyway?” Deon asked in a detective voice. The question caught me off guard.

“No, I wasn’t snooping, I don’t have to snoop. This is…”

“Reggie hold on for a sec, I have a beep. Matter of fact, let me call you back, this is my fiancé and I intend on having a honest happy marriage unlike you Dick Tracy.” I smiled as I hung up and placed the phone back on the dock. With caution I peeked down the hall to confirm that my Mother-in-law’s door wasn’t open. The last thing I needed this thanksgiving holiday was an enraged witch brewing up my feast. I smiled gently when I saw that her door was in fact closed, but my lips lost gravity as the hinges creaked while the door slowly opened.

She was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at me with Medusa eyes… I turned to stone; well it felt like it. She raised her hand and signaled me over with slow pulls of her trigger finger. Mama Medusa had a look on her face like a mother who had just caught her child stealing currency from her purse. I don’t recall my brain authorizing my legs to move, but they did. Suddenly I was standing at the threshold of her door… well my door; cause after all, this is my house. I tried to erase the childish fear from my body, and finally stand up to this woman, but I couldn’t. My legs were on auto pilot and came to a screeching halt in the doorway. I attempted to continue in; I didn’t want to show any fear, but my legs refused. I was stuck, paralyzed; I was Christopher Reeves on my last leg. And her eyes... the look she shared with me was so horrific, as if her pupils were glowing Kryptonite green. I gave up on moving, as if I really had a choice; I was under her spell... and Deon said I was overreacting.

“Ahhhh… it seems as if ya can’t enter the room can’t cha? Maybe cuz ya have an evil spirit perhaps yeah?” She spoke in a scratchy tone, the voice of a sick elder that just woke up. I tried to speak, to respond to her nonsense… but I couldn’t. She stood up in a lavender dress with black roses scattered in a poke-a-dot pattern, and walked towards me. I felt my heart beat race itself in a billion yard sprint as she reached for me with a wrinkled hand. The only thing I could move were my eyes, as I focused on a small cut on her arm that seemed to absorb me.

As her fingertip got closer to my face, I felt my soul leave my torso and then everything faded with an exaggerated blink. The next thing I saw was my wife, reaching for me in the same posture. She was waking me up from a nightmare as I sat up quickly from the couch. I smiled at the fact that I was just dreaming… until I looked down the hall and saw my mother-in-law… sitting on the edge of the bed…

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby whatevertheyaint » Wed Nov 24, 2010 4:44 am

Momma Monster has a cut on her arm, but when I ask her how she got it, she can't even look me in the eye. I've often asked Charles why he hasn't put her in an asylum already; the lady talks to cockroaches for Pete's sake. She's standing in my kitchen with a one-legged chicken, talking about getting to know me. Excuse me? I've been married to Charles for twenty years; if she's not familiar with me by now, I feel sorry for her.

I ask her again, "Are you okay? That's a nasty cut."

"Oh, I scratched myself tending to the rose bush," she says. "Listen, dear, I was wondering if you'd like some chicken. Maybe I can cook you dinner. Hmm?"

What is this? Something isn't right, perhaps her brain. Maybe she has degeneration, or a tumor. Maybe she's just loony. Either way, I'm calling Charles because, as much as she gets on my nerves, she's my mother-in-law and I'm concerned. But wait. That's a yellow paint smudge on her elbow. My house is yellow. Did she actually... No!! She's a peeping Tessa? Why? What on earth would she need to see?

That's it. She and I are going for a long drive. Yep. A ride to Shady Lane Hospital would be even better, but we'll start with Charlie's office. He has to do something about his mother. Now. If he doesn't, by golly I might add her to that chicken and make Monster Momma gumbo!

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby LittleEden » Wed Nov 24, 2010 5:30 am

I waited outside the Grand Jury room for my turn to testify against my mother-in-law. People came and went through the door but still I sat. The D.A.'s plan was to call me last, she was sure my testimony would clinch her case. Being last gave me a chance to reflect on what bought me to today. It was simple enough when I analyzed it. I had married a mama's boy.

"Mary Jo Whinny." Finally, I heard my name; and I made my way to the witness stand.

"Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth?"

"I do."

The D.A. started her examination of me. "Tell the court about the events of Monday, August eighth of last year around noon."

I took a deep breath and looking straight at the judge I told my story.

"My door bell rang. I opened the door and my mother-in-law pushed me back into the entrance hall. She closed the door behind her and shoved a rubber chicken at me. "Take it." I shook my head no. "I said take it or else."

I backed into the living room with her right on top of me, swinging that rubber chicken over her head, as if she was about to lasso a calf. I stopped when I hit the coffee table; now I had no place to go. "Take it," once again she insisted I take the rubber chicken; and that is when I saw it was missing a foot and the other one covered in dried blood.

Now I was becoming afraid. Mrs. Whinny's family considered her high strung but I always figured it went deeper than that. I suspected she was on the verge of insanity at any given time.

"What happened next?" The D.A. wanted me to stick with the script and not wander off giving my opinions.

"After I notice the missing foot and blood I saw the gash on the inside of her arm. It was then I realized something bad must have happened."

"Take It!" She shouted at me, "Take It!" and in the next breath, in a calm voice she said she just wanted to know me better."

"What did she say next?" The D.A. was leading me where she wanted to go.

"She called me Joan; my name is Mary Jo but she always refused to call me by my right name. She said something about never forgiving me for marrying her one and only son while all the time swinging that rubber chicken, and demanding I take it. I did not understand why she wanted me to take that disgusting thing but I knew that if I did I would live to regret it. In desperation, I pushed her back, ran to the front door, and to my neighbor's house. There I called the police and that's all I know."

My testimony over; the D.A. summed up the case. Mrs. Whinny, my mother-in-law, in her crazed mind had come up with a way to cover up the murder of my father-in-law, and blame it on me. She killed him with a butcher knife and then in rage beat him with the rubber chicken; that is how it lost one of its feet. In attacking him, one of the chicken's feet must have cut her arm.

After killing him, she drove to my house. Her plan was to make me touch the rubber chicken so my fingerprints would be on it and I would be charged with his murder. Then she would be rid of the two people she hated.

The Grand Jury took only forty-five minutes to find more than enough cause to hold her over for trial. I doubt she will do any jail time; most likely, she will plead insanity, and spend the rest of her days in an alyssum for the criminal insane.

One last thing the reader should know to explain just how insane she was. Her son, my husband, I should make myself clear, my ex-husband. We were divorced over twenty years ago but she still could not let go of the fact I married him.

If my story has a moral, it has to be: Do not marry a mama's boy.

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby AshleighElizabeth » Wed Nov 24, 2010 6:18 am

Ring, ring, ring, went the door bell. Who could it be? I had not invited anyone over, the husband was at work, and I had notified everyone of my sickness so I could have the whole house to my lonesome, but content, self all day. Apperantly I just can't get a break.

"Honey! I know you're home! Please come open the door!" I heard the shout, but the familiar voice didn't seem normal coming from my front door. Why would she be here?

"Hello, Mom," I said arching a brow suspiciouslly as I opened the door, "What brings you here?"

"Oh I heard you were sick and people get to know each other best when one is sick,"

"But you already know me well enough..." I started protesting, telling her I'd rather be alone. The woman never listened to a word I said for anything.

"No, no, no, I'd feel guilty if I didn't help take care of you. Now, go lay down on the couch and I'll microwave the stew I brought for you," she started talking so fast it made my head hurt. Reluctantly, I nestled down in the couch and curled up. This was very unusual behavoir for my mohter-in-law.

"Here you go darling girl. It's hot, so make sure you blow before you sip! And I know how much you loved playing with the chickens when you were a child, so I brought a rubber chicken to help keep your mind off of the sickness." As she reached out to hand me the very odd chicken, I noticed a cut on her arm. It looked deep and it bruised the skin around it.

"How did you get that?" I asked, pointing at the cut. She was hesitant to answer.

"Oh, that? I uhm.. well... it's just one of those accidents that can happen while cooking," she said pulling her sleeve down and slightly chuckling. I didn't think any of that was funny and my discomfort became suddenly aware.

"Listen, why don't you leave now. I don't mean to be rude and I thank you for driving 20 miles to come see me, but I just want to be alone. Maybe we can get to know each other better sometime...later," I said shyly. I didn't want to just kick her out but I didn't feel at ease when she was around.

"Okay I'll go. Just uhm..let me give you this," she said and everything else was like a flash of light. My head pounded and throbbed when I finally awoke.

A cut... On my arm... Just like hers. It was starting to bruise all around the cut, just like hers...again. How did she...? Where did she..? What!? I ran to the bathroom and checked my head. There was a knot the size of a baseball on the back of my head! What did she knock me out with? What time was it? I was alive..right?

I stormed back into the living room to find something that only made me break down more. She was dead. My mother-in-law was dead...on our living room floor. What the heck was going on?

I reached for the phone as quickly as more panic rather than fear sunk in. They arrived, I told them all I remembered, and they wheeled her away. In fact, they haven't been to my house since that day. Maybe they were even too freaked to do anything for me.

It's been seven months and that cut still hasn't gone away. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, or how, or when, or why she even did it to me. But so far, life's been going on as normal. (Besides my husband being freaked out more than anyone...even me.) I guess no one has an answer for this madness, but maybe it's better that way.

Here's an added note: I kept that rubber chicken, that, by the way, only had one foot. I put it in a box to begin with, but it always found its way back to the living room couch. We put it up when we have guests, but other than that, it stays there. You'd think we'd (especially me) would want it out of the house, maybe even out of this country, but no, it just stays there. Much like the cut, we can't seem to get it to go away...

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Richard81086 » Wed Nov 24, 2010 3:05 pm

The rest of the family was out in the living room, most of them enthralled with the lackluster game, while the rest chattered on. Patrick was in the bedroom where he had kept the jackets, and was rummaging through the personal possessions of his mother-in-law. Something was off about her today, which would be great except for the fact that it put him on edge. He wondered if the old lady had found out him, and was worried that if she did, then the truth he had worked to so hard to preserve, might come out.
She’s always been a mysterious crow. He had met his wife when he was “working” in Latvia and had fallen in love at the sight of her fiery red hair. When he left to come back to the states, his wife had insisted that her mother come along so that she could keep an eye on her. Patrick didn’t object, but through the trials she had put him through, all the evil glances, the subtle verbal jabs at the table, and the constant whispering when he walked past, she had basically put the brakes on any kind of relationship.
Again, all of this would have been fine except for today something seemed amiss. She was a small frail woman, but underneath the red sweater she was wearing there was a massively, jagged cut that she hadn’t bothered to conceal. When Patrick had asked, she simply smiled at him and shook her head in an unsettling way. He knew something was up when, after dinner he caught her holding the charm on her necklace while reciting something under her breath. This is what led him into the bedroom to rifle through her purse and jacket in secret.
He hadn’t found anything that seemed out of place until he reached into the pocket that was on the inside of her long, black coat. Feeling the rubbery object with his fingertips, he pulled it out and was mystified to see that it was a small, fake chicken with only one foot. Patrick looked at it in horror as his worst fears were confirmed now. He didn’t want to make it any worse, so he quickly hid the charm in the specified box that was kept in his closet. As he was putting it back up on the shelf he heard the door slide over the carpet and the frail woman stepped in.
“You’ve found it,” Carina said without the slightest surprise in her voice.
“I have,” Patrick said turning to face her. He felt my ring with my hand, and while he couldn’t summon his powers he figured that he was at least protected for the moment. “I always knew you were a Godless abomination, but I didn’t figure you for a witch.”
“You’re certainly one to talk,” she said shaking her head. Her grey hail fell listlessly out of the back of her red headscarf as she stood there with her tiny hands folded behind her back. “You almost killed me beast, do you remember?” she asked lifting up her sleeve to show me the cut.
“I don’t,” Patrick said a bit worried now. The moon had been full, but he didn’t remember being called out.
“Don’t look surprised, you know what the footless chicken means. You realize that I’ve cursed you from doing you master’s bidding. We’re no longer in the forest you feral beast, and this time I used the girl to lure you into my web.”
“Does she know?”
“You mean does she know that her mother is a witch, and her husband is a werewolf? No she’s unaware; though I’m sure I’ll have to explain things to her once I’m rid of you.”
“That won’t stop anything. You’ll still be hunted and you know you can’t curse me in my own house.”
“That’s true; you were always smarter than the rest. That’s why they made you a Hunter, but you should know that while I can’t curse you, I can curse other things around you,” she said with a wicked, toothless smile.
He tried to say something, but her eyes flashed crimson and he felt his insides burn like fire. Patrick’s throat swelled and he collapsed to his knees as he felt his eyes thrust out of their sockets.
“It was the turkey,” she said softly moving over while chanting her words of torture. “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said before everything in Patrick’s world went black.

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Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby georgette80 » Wed Nov 24, 2010 3:28 pm

This is the second writing prompt, I have done. In fact, this prompt was right up my alley, because my mother-n-law and I , have never gotten along. So, yes, this is pretty much how a conversation with one of my girlfriends would go about the situation.




GIRLFRIENDS CACKLING
by:Georgette J.


“Girl, I was wearing my favorite silk robe, accentuated with purple orchids and calla lillies.”

..The one Jamal bought you for your anniversary...

“Uh huh, that’s the one

“I walked into the kitchen, and heard a noise at the side door, the one that connects my house to my garage, and all of a sudden I began thinking, now I know that can’t be Jamal.”

…I thought Jamal was out of town on business…

“Will you let me finish. Like I said, I thought to myself, “Now I know that can’t be Jamal! We met in the fourth grade. He’s was my first and biggest crush…still is, I just know my baby’s not trying to sneak up on me, thinking he’s going to catch me in the act.
Thinking this was too cute; I couldn’t find room to get mad. Laughing to myself, I unlocked the door, and hid behind the frigerator that stands right at the doorway. (SIGH) Girl, I was covering my mouth to conceal my laughter. I damn near pissed on myself!”

…I know you didn’t…

“Yes, I did. I was dying inside, and on the count of...1, 2, 3, “SURPRISE!!” I screamed as I jumped from behind the frigerator and threw my robe to the floor. Then, I revealed all my nakedness. That’s right; I revealed all my nakedness…to my mother-n-law.”

…OH MY GOD! Tell me you didn’t…

“Although I was totally embarrassed by the whole ordeal, the fact that she was at my house, stunned me even more. Hell, I assumed she had to have suffered from a bad case of Alzheimer’s.”

…Girl stop…

“You laughing, but I’m so serious. That woman has never come to our house. I mean, I have been with Jamal for 10 years, and not once have Mama Jo, come to our home. Jamal had to practically drag her up-tight ass to our wedding. She was so shocked, that her jaw could have put a whole in my floor. While she was paralyzed from the whole fiasco, I managed to pick my robe up and collect whatever cool points I had left. By that time, Mama Jo regained consciousness.

Why, Mama Jo? I asked in a suspicious sarcastic manner, “what brings you by after all these long years."
She just stood there for a moment, wearing that same sneaky look the Grinch wears when he’s up to something, resting upon her face. Then she fixed her moth to say something that literally took my breath away.”

…Ooh, girl, what’d she say?...

“That damn Josephine Parker, looked me in the eyes and said, “Tiana, I think it’s time we get to know each other better, and end all this madness. It’s not good for, Jamal. It’s not good for you, and sympathetically sighing she added...it’s not good for me.”

… (Scoffing) I know she didn’t think you would actually fall for that…

“The sad part is that, somewhere in the back of her warped mind, she looked like she really thought she had me.

Ok, I must admit, there was a tiny particle in me that wanted to believe that her body had been attacked by aliens in the middle of the night, and made her at least 5% human. Luckily, reality set in and made me aware of whom I was dealing with. That’s when I noticed the odd cut on the back of her right arm, through a nearby mirror that was behind her. Then as my eyes redirected to her left arm, I noticed that she was carrying a rubber chicken that was missing a foot.”

“My eyes refocused on her, and just as I blurted, “What the hell?” She raised her hands above my head and began shaking droplets of chicken blood all over me. She began chanting a language I never heard, and just as her arms came down, I heard Jamal calling out to me. I turned my head to look behind me, and just when my body began to follow, Mama Jo grabbed both of my shoulders. Rubbing blood all over my robe, she raised her right thumb and just before it landed on my forehead, the doorbell rang, and woke me up.

I don’t know what she was about to do, but I had never been so glad to see the UPS man in my life.”



:) :)

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RE: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Neets » Fri Nov 26, 2010 3:08 am

"Happy Thanksgiving dear!"

Air kisses, very Hollywood.

"Come on in Mother, let me get your bags."

And just like that, in a cloud of Aqua-Net and cigarette smoke, heeeeeeere's dear Mummy!

Just how long is she planning to stay? No one knows, Steve said that to bring up the subject

would signal her to engage her defensive mode, and she would interpret the question as an

invitation to leave, allowing her to confirm her suspicions regarding my level of affection

for her.

Her psychic abilities are the stuff of family legend of course, but when Agnes had a

beautiful Russian bride to order shipped to Steve to save him from the peril of dating me, a

consultation with the amazing Kreskin was not necessary to reveal my feelings for dear

Agnes.

"I see you've been working to keep the weight off dear! I really admire the person who

despite the inevitable still keeps trying! Your poor Mother is a fine example, she's no

quitter despite her fate!"

Agnes' expensive but tacky, leopard print fake fur tobacco scented jacket was in my hand, I

was trying to get it into the coat closet as I felt her Cleopatra made up eyes on my

backside. My jaw opened at the shock of her openly rude statement, I shoved her smelly

jacket into the moldiest part of the closet and turned back to Agnes with a frozen grin.

Agnes was laughing. "Dear, this is for you, I found it on the plane! Isn't it a hoot? She

shoved a smelly old rubber chicken at me, it was missing a foot. "I thought maybe that dog

of yours would like it!"

"Barron passed away last year Mom, I thought you knew." Steve called from the bar.

"Oh that's right! Well at least you don't have all that dog hair to try to clean up after

anymore, right Honey?" Agnes gave me a wink.

Agnes rubbed at a large cut on her forearm that her gigantic bracelet had obviously

irritated.

"Hey Mom! What happened to your arm? That looks painful!" I faked concern.

"No, not in the least honey, just a scratch, getting in the cab to the airport, it was one

of those damn automatic seatbelts. I'm glad they don't make those anymore!"

My imagination went to a lovely visual of the automatic seatbelt getting caught on the front

row head rest while looped around Agnes' neck, the door shut repeatedly, and then the coil

of belting being sucked violently into the door panel, and there was my vision of Agnes,

leaving this world safely belted down, all the better to contain her evil spirit.

"We really need to spend some quality shopping time together dear! Let's go out tomorrow and

see if we can find you something that really fits! I hit for five grand in Vegas last week

and I'm dying to spend it all!"

"Congratulations Mom! You girls can have the whole day together!" Steve gave Mother her

drink, her eyes twinkled over the top of her glass at me, a set of tiger eyes in the deep

dark jungle, right before the tiger leaps to open your throat kind of twinkle.

After dinner and two more gin and tonics for Agnes she stretched her bony hickory smoked

frame.

"Well kids, that's all the fun I can stand for one day, I need to be rested up for our

shopping expedition tomorrow if I want to keep up with your spending habits!" Agnes chuckled

at shuffled off to the guest room.

I picked up the glasses and headed to the bar.

"You know she really is very sweet, she just doesn't know you like I do, Karen, I think it's

great she wants to spend time with you, she wouldn't offer unless she really wanted to you

know, she's very genuine in her intentions."

I flung the rubber chicken over to Steve, it's high speed caused him to miss the catch, and

I was satisfied and guilty at the same time when it slapped him in his face.

Agnes didn't look so hot when she emerged from the guest room the next morning. The cut on

her arm was angry red and swollen.

"I think we should get you to the clinic Mom, you can always go shopping, but this looks

bad."

Agnes rolled her eyes. "Dammit, I put some antibiotic cream on it, but I just don't heal as

well as I used to."

Steve left for work, and I called ahead to the clinic, they told me they had only one other

person in the waiting room and if we could hurry they would be able to get her right in.

Agnes was still working on her intricate makeup application, she had the guest bath counter

crowded with potions, lotions and spackle as she backed up to the light with her magnifying

mirror trying to paint on her signature eyeliner with her sore arm.

"The light in here is an abomination! If your bathroom is the same it's no wonder you gave

up trying to play up your -" She paused to eye me up and down, "features."

By the time we finally made it to the clinic there was quite a wait ahead of us. Agnes sat

down with a Vogue magazine, and I stepped outside to touch base with my associates at work

but I couldn't resist calling my best friend Rachel.

"Oh my God! She really said that? And Steve didn't think that sounded insulting?"

"He's very protective of his Mom, she can do no wrong."

"That's because he's such a great guy, but wow, the package deal sucks!"

"Pray for me Rachel"

"Will do, hon, love you."

Agnes was called in. She didn't come back out for almost an hour and half. I knew she had to

be starving by that time, and I planned to take her to the nearest restaurant for lunch.

"Are you okay? I bet you're starving!" I offered as I handed her her sweater.

"Not so much dear, but I could use a drink."

We were seated promptly, at the nearby cafe, Agnes wasn't pleased that they didn't serve

liquor.

"Agnes, you need to get something to eat, you don't look well, we can stop for a drink later

if you want, but Steve will kill me if you faint from exhaustion."

"All right, I'll have some soup. I can't eat much before the dinner hour though."

I took note her ability to drink before the dinner hour was impressive.

She read my mind, in her legendary style.

"You know, it's not so important really, you don't have to fuss over my health. I can see

you take good care of my son."

The first compliment I ever received from Agnes and I couldn't enjoy a feeling of victory

given the worry her statement produced in me.

"You would live it up too, if the doctors told you that it would only be a matter of

months."

Agnes crushed the saltine crackers forcefully into her soup.

"Don't you dare tell Steve." She continued to imply physical threat by her display of the

crushing of the saltines accompanied by a cold stare.

"I intend to spend my last days with you and Steve, if you can do as I ask and endure me my

final wishes in this matter, you and Steve will become very wealthy when I do pass on. I'm

sure that must appeal to you at least, I think you'll be strong enough to survive me in my

final days."

I remained silent of course, stunned, and Agnes read my mind again.

"Yes, you will survive Karen, you need to show some confidence in yourself once in awhile."

Agnes sat back and lit a cigarette, the waitress turned a shade of red, the horror of

confronting Agnes regarding the cigarette showed on her face. As the waitress approached our

table to request that Agnes extinguish her smoke, Agnes quickly turned blew smoke at the

young girl, and doused her cigarette into the remainder of the soup. It produced a sickening

odor, and the nearby patrons were having a difficult time containing their outrage.

Agnes laughed. "Now, let's go spend some money! I know there has to be a bar at that mall!"

I left a huge tip, and vowed to apologize to the establishment at a later date.

Five years have come and gone, but not dear Agnes. She is celebrating another holiday season

with us, perhaps the carinogens and alcohol have interacted with whatever health problem she

claims to be afflicted with to produce this mutation that is my Mother in law.

Steve is oblivious to her venom as always, and I was supposed to take my exit off the

interstate over two hundred miles ago. It's Monday, so my tank is full of gas and after the

long day at work the thought of returning home to Agnes inspired me to keep on driving. My

cell phone rolled at least seven times before smashing into the grill of the tractor trailer

behind me. I wanted to go home, but apparently I'm going to have to make a new one for

myself first.



___________________________________________________


Waaaay over word count, my apologies.

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Re: Mother-in-Law Talk - 11/23

Postby Leond » Fri Nov 26, 2010 10:54 am

I know a lot of people hate their mothers-in-law, and I admit that some of them have good cause to. For the first three years after I married Mary, I thought I had good cause to as well. Her mother-in-law is an absolutely bizarre person. She always had a tendency to show up at strange times, at strange places, carrying strange things. When talking, she was always very reserved and very awkward, and it was always very clear that the things she came out of her mouth had nothing whatsoever to do with the things going on in her mind. My wife said she had been like that ever since her husband's death. And then, the Thanksgiving of our third year, for the first time, she became clear to me.
As usual, when she turned up she began to talk pleasantly, moving from topic to topic in a very unfocused and clearly superficial manner. In her hand was a rubber chicken. She gave no explanation for it, but I really wasn't surprised. When we got inside, I tried to take the chicken from her from her, but she latched on to it, and I quickly gave up. However, she said, in an oddly deep voice, that later she wanted to talk to me alone. She said something about wanting to get to know me better. I said that we could talk after dinner.
That talk came, and it was a strange experience. She guided me into an empty dinner, made me sit down, and then dropped the rubber chicken on the table, pointing out to me with an odd emphasis the fact that it was missing a leg. Then she began to speak, randomly and superficially, barely letting me get a word in edgewise. She also lifted up her left sleeve and displayed a deep-looking cut shaped like a crescent moon facing outwards. After a while of this she left, and when I tried to talk to her, she clammed up. Normally I would have dismissed the whole affair as being more of her odd eccentricities. But something about her utter franticness to make me notice those two things stuck in my mind. And for the first time, I realized that she was trying to tell me something with them. And that it was something that for some reason she didn't feel comfortable telling me face to face.
I started to think about it, but didn't end up getting anywhere, so I abandoned the endeavor for a while. Then, the next night, my wife told me something. Apparently, my mother in law had lung cancer, and the doctors hadn't given her much time.
For a while I thought that somehow that was what she was trying to tell me, but it didn't seem right to me. For one thing, I couldn't make the symbols come out to that, and for another, the fact that she had said it only to me seemed very strange. But with that clue, at some point in the middle of the night, the answer came to me. I realized just what she was trying to say, and why she was trying to say it.
Essentially, she had been giving me a very odd and very deep pun. I realized that the distinctive feature of the cut and the distinctive feature of the chicken were meant to be put together. The chicken was missing a leg. And her arm was also missing something: a section of skin not in the shape of a moon, but in the shape of the letter C. When put together, it meant that she was missing a legacy.
There were secondary meanings that I saw too. The arm was obvious. She was missing flesh and blood. And the rubber chicken meant something too. Take the two words. They come off in iambics, like a lot of English. Then, do what she did. Subtract a foot. That gave two possible messages she was trying to send me, depending on which you took off. One was the command "Rub her". The other was calling me a chicken for not moving forward.
Mary's mother had been raised in an ultra-puritanical environment. It was utterly beyond her to mention anything having to do with sex, and so if she thought of it, she would babble around it. And it seemed she had always been thinking about it when around me.
Two nights later, you were conceived. I can't precisely tell if I got the interpretation of my mother's message perfectly. But I do know that when you were born, something made her a lot happier.

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