Jillermar's Challenge
Tell a story, from a child's point of view, about a loved one's choice of a mate.
There must be dialogue between at least three of your characters.
There is no word limit on this.
There must be dialogue between at least three of your characters.
There is no word limit on this.
“Dad, is she coming again this week-end?”
“Yes, Melissa, why?”
“Just wondering dad.”
That was the answer, and dad was sure there would be no problems. How could a dad know what actually went through the head of a ten year old? Mum died when I was so small, I do not even remember what she looked like. I was just reminded by photos. Dad just took over where mum left off I suppose, which meant he had to guide me through school, and even help me when I had a fight with the boy next door. Bobby was ok, but he didn’t like me getting better notes in school than he did. I could climb trees a lot faster than he could and was the best swimmer in the class. Yes, dad made a good job of my education. I suppose men are more down to earth in the necessities of life.
All the other kids at school would talk about the television programmes they watched; mostly cartoons and animal stuff. The only animal stuff we watched were the medical ones, all about sick animals with broken bones and how they repaired them. I could understand that as it was a bit in the line of things that dad did as a job. He even had his own company.
Otherwise my television experiences were limited to political discussions that I did not really understand. I just got from dad which politician was fit to lead the country and which one did not have a clue. I noticed he quite admired it when a female politician was successful.
Dad also liked watching gardening on the television. We had a small garden but dad never did much in it. He was more interested in the park next door to our house which was enormous, with lots of sculptures. Dad liked to take a walk with me through the park. He even took me to the place where they carved the stones for the decorations. Ok, I supposed you guessed, I was also good in art subjects at school and my best notes were in nature study, although the teacher was not so happy when I knew more than she did. She seemed to be more interested in little animals and trees and flowers. I was more interested in how it all worked, especially the animals. When I asked her if we could dissect a frog, she told me it was not something for little girls. Anyhow, no problem, dad showed me how to do that at home .
The problem with dad was, he needed a friend, although a dad is the best friend you can have, but he needed a girlfriend. I was the only girl in the house and although I was quite good at helping dad with the cooking and cleaning up, there were some things I was not so good at. I had been living on chicken from the KFC, hamburgers from McDonald’s and all sorts of fast food. Now and again dad and I would try something else, perhaps a steak. That was easy to cook, dad and I both had the same taste, we didn’t like the meat so well done, just a little bit pinkish inside.
Anyhow it seemed that She was coming this week-end again. Now dad does not meet many women in his branch of business, but it seemed he met her at one of the conferences he had to attend now and again. I remember that conference quite well, it was one of those where he had to stay away for almost a week, so I had to go to grandmothers. Nothing wrong with grandmother, but she felt I should show more interest in sewing and knitting and reading books with nice stories. She did her best, but as soon as I could, I would play in the garden she had: much more interesting, she even had a stream with frogs. No, of course, I didn’t take them apart, but grandmother did not like finding them in her kitchen in her empty glass jam jars.
When dad returned from his conference he told me all about Her in the car on the way home from grandmothers. When we arrived home, he was still talking about Her and said She would be paying us a visit at the week-end. I thought dad meant just Saturday, but no, it was a complete week-end and she did not even sleep in the spare room which I suppose was none of my business. I remember Sunday morning when she arrived at breakfast.
“Good morning Melissa, how did you sleep?” she asked.
“With my eyes closed” was my logical answer and she did not even scream when she found the snail sitting between her eggs and bacon.
“Oh look at that Raymond” she said to my father “looks like a common garden snail. Shame it isn’t a Burgundy snail, they are very tasty.”
My dad was not very pleased. “Melissa is that your work, putting that snail on Morticia’s plate.”
“Oh, sorry dad; must have dropped out of my hand. I found him in the garden.”
“No problem, Melissa” said Morticia which was Her name, “snails are very interesting creatures, but I am sure he is unhappy on my plate. Just excuse me a moment, I will return him to the garden. He will be much happier there.”
She, Morticia, took the snail in her hand and returned it to its earthy home in the garden. I had a funny feeling that Morticia would be here to stay.
After breakfast Dad told me to get ready, we will go for a walk in the park next door, and afterwards we would go for lunch to the Mahogony Parlour. It was the best restaurant in town and as you can imagine, the furniture was all in warm brown shades, made of mahogany of course, although dad said it was probably imitation.
I was looking forward to going through the park and I was sure Morticia would hate it; all those monuments and flowers, mostly lilies and roses. How wrong can you be?
“Look, Raymond, how sweet that little angel is on that white marble block and the carvings on that stone, all in gold, just wonderful and the flowers are so well looked after, their perfume is so sweet” and so it continued. Even I began to like Morticia.
Eventually we arrived at the restaurant.
“What would you like to eat” dad asked.
“I’ll have the calf’s liver, in a red wine sauce,” hoping my decision would shock Morticia.
“What a good healthy choice Melissa” Morticia said, “I think I will have the same. “What about you Raymond?”
“I will have the calf’s liver as well, but Melissa, be careful, the last time we almost didn’t get the stains out of your blouse.”
“That wasn’t my fault dad, it wasn’t cooked properly and was still a bit raw.”
Eventually the Morticia week-end was finished and dad and I brought her to the station. That evening dad said he would have to have a few important words with me.
“What do you think of Morticia?” he asked
Silly question, I thought as it seemed that dad had already made his decision.
“She’s ok dad, I suppose, why?”
“Could you imagine her living here with both of us.”
“You mean like a mum.”
“Something like that Melissa.”
“Why not?” was my answer and for dad the subject was dealt with.
Morticia arrived with two large suitcases the next week-end.
“Hello Melissa, it looks like I will be moving in with your dad. I am sure we will have a lovely time together.”
“Are you going to marry my dad?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, you know he did ask me and I said yes. I am sure we will get on well together. I met your father at a business conference. I was there with my father who has the same business as Raymond and I will probably be working together with your father.”
So that was decided. I was glad that she told me she was in the same line of things as dad was. I think that was one of the reasons that dad had never found a real girlfriend.
The wedding was held at the local town hall as dad wasn’t into religion and neither was Morticia.
A week later the plaque on the door of dad’s company was removed and new one was put there.
It used to be “Raymond Smith Funeral Parlour” and the new one said “Raymond and Morticia Smith Funeral Parlour”.
“Yes, Melissa, why?”
“Just wondering dad.”
That was the answer, and dad was sure there would be no problems. How could a dad know what actually went through the head of a ten year old? Mum died when I was so small, I do not even remember what she looked like. I was just reminded by photos. Dad just took over where mum left off I suppose, which meant he had to guide me through school, and even help me when I had a fight with the boy next door. Bobby was ok, but he didn’t like me getting better notes in school than he did. I could climb trees a lot faster than he could and was the best swimmer in the class. Yes, dad made a good job of my education. I suppose men are more down to earth in the necessities of life.
All the other kids at school would talk about the television programmes they watched; mostly cartoons and animal stuff. The only animal stuff we watched were the medical ones, all about sick animals with broken bones and how they repaired them. I could understand that as it was a bit in the line of things that dad did as a job. He even had his own company.
Otherwise my television experiences were limited to political discussions that I did not really understand. I just got from dad which politician was fit to lead the country and which one did not have a clue. I noticed he quite admired it when a female politician was successful.
Dad also liked watching gardening on the television. We had a small garden but dad never did much in it. He was more interested in the park next door to our house which was enormous, with lots of sculptures. Dad liked to take a walk with me through the park. He even took me to the place where they carved the stones for the decorations. Ok, I supposed you guessed, I was also good in art subjects at school and my best notes were in nature study, although the teacher was not so happy when I knew more than she did. She seemed to be more interested in little animals and trees and flowers. I was more interested in how it all worked, especially the animals. When I asked her if we could dissect a frog, she told me it was not something for little girls. Anyhow, no problem, dad showed me how to do that at home .
The problem with dad was, he needed a friend, although a dad is the best friend you can have, but he needed a girlfriend. I was the only girl in the house and although I was quite good at helping dad with the cooking and cleaning up, there were some things I was not so good at. I had been living on chicken from the KFC, hamburgers from McDonald’s and all sorts of fast food. Now and again dad and I would try something else, perhaps a steak. That was easy to cook, dad and I both had the same taste, we didn’t like the meat so well done, just a little bit pinkish inside.
Anyhow it seemed that She was coming this week-end again. Now dad does not meet many women in his branch of business, but it seemed he met her at one of the conferences he had to attend now and again. I remember that conference quite well, it was one of those where he had to stay away for almost a week, so I had to go to grandmothers. Nothing wrong with grandmother, but she felt I should show more interest in sewing and knitting and reading books with nice stories. She did her best, but as soon as I could, I would play in the garden she had: much more interesting, she even had a stream with frogs. No, of course, I didn’t take them apart, but grandmother did not like finding them in her kitchen in her empty glass jam jars.
When dad returned from his conference he told me all about Her in the car on the way home from grandmothers. When we arrived home, he was still talking about Her and said She would be paying us a visit at the week-end. I thought dad meant just Saturday, but no, it was a complete week-end and she did not even sleep in the spare room which I suppose was none of my business. I remember Sunday morning when she arrived at breakfast.
“Good morning Melissa, how did you sleep?” she asked.
“With my eyes closed” was my logical answer and she did not even scream when she found the snail sitting between her eggs and bacon.
“Oh look at that Raymond” she said to my father “looks like a common garden snail. Shame it isn’t a Burgundy snail, they are very tasty.”
My dad was not very pleased. “Melissa is that your work, putting that snail on Morticia’s plate.”
“Oh, sorry dad; must have dropped out of my hand. I found him in the garden.”
“No problem, Melissa” said Morticia which was Her name, “snails are very interesting creatures, but I am sure he is unhappy on my plate. Just excuse me a moment, I will return him to the garden. He will be much happier there.”
She, Morticia, took the snail in her hand and returned it to its earthy home in the garden. I had a funny feeling that Morticia would be here to stay.
After breakfast Dad told me to get ready, we will go for a walk in the park next door, and afterwards we would go for lunch to the Mahogony Parlour. It was the best restaurant in town and as you can imagine, the furniture was all in warm brown shades, made of mahogany of course, although dad said it was probably imitation.
I was looking forward to going through the park and I was sure Morticia would hate it; all those monuments and flowers, mostly lilies and roses. How wrong can you be?
“Look, Raymond, how sweet that little angel is on that white marble block and the carvings on that stone, all in gold, just wonderful and the flowers are so well looked after, their perfume is so sweet” and so it continued. Even I began to like Morticia.
Eventually we arrived at the restaurant.
“What would you like to eat” dad asked.
“I’ll have the calf’s liver, in a red wine sauce,” hoping my decision would shock Morticia.
“What a good healthy choice Melissa” Morticia said, “I think I will have the same. “What about you Raymond?”
“I will have the calf’s liver as well, but Melissa, be careful, the last time we almost didn’t get the stains out of your blouse.”
“That wasn’t my fault dad, it wasn’t cooked properly and was still a bit raw.”
Eventually the Morticia week-end was finished and dad and I brought her to the station. That evening dad said he would have to have a few important words with me.
“What do you think of Morticia?” he asked
Silly question, I thought as it seemed that dad had already made his decision.
“She’s ok dad, I suppose, why?”
“Could you imagine her living here with both of us.”
“You mean like a mum.”
“Something like that Melissa.”
“Why not?” was my answer and for dad the subject was dealt with.
Morticia arrived with two large suitcases the next week-end.
“Hello Melissa, it looks like I will be moving in with your dad. I am sure we will have a lovely time together.”
“Are you going to marry my dad?”
“Well, yes, I suppose so, you know he did ask me and I said yes. I am sure we will get on well together. I met your father at a business conference. I was there with my father who has the same business as Raymond and I will probably be working together with your father.”
So that was decided. I was glad that she told me she was in the same line of things as dad was. I think that was one of the reasons that dad had never found a real girlfriend.
The wedding was held at the local town hall as dad wasn’t into religion and neither was Morticia.
A week later the plaque on the door of dad’s company was removed and new one was put there.
It used to be “Raymond Smith Funeral Parlour” and the new one said “Raymond and Morticia Smith Funeral Parlour”.
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