Sunday, 8 January 2023

My third very short short story of the year. This time, my husband gave me the words seahorse, reunion, cross, yesterday and polar bears. I don’t know who is more creative to be honest, him or me. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this, because I had so much fun writing it.

Family reunion. Dreading it. Should not have drunk that bottle of wine last night. Headache is only going to get worse. Must not forget to think of solid excuse why no one can kiss me. A cold? Not repulsive enough. Herpes? Probably too repulsive.

Wish Mark would be there. Bastard called Mum at the eleventh hour to say he wouldn’t be able to make it. His girlfriend is ‘sick’, so he needs to ‘take care of her’. Rubbish. Don’t know who I hate more. Him, for throwing me to the lions. Or myself, for not beating him to the punch.

So many people to avoid. Cousin Derek. Never stops boasting about his ‘ground-breaking’ research ‘that I would never understand’. “To put it quite simply, I’m studying the social patterns of polar bears on the North Pole.” You also used to shove rain worms up your nose.

Aunt Lisa. Definitely staying away from her. “Carrie, you will never believe what happened to me yesterday. I was crossing the street when all of a sudden, it started to rain. And not just a drizzle, it was pouring! Now, I always carry an umbrella with me, but guess what. I had left it at home! Can you believe it? The one time I forget it, it rains!” Kill me. Kill me now.

Must be smart about this. Slide in the back door. Sneak through the kitchen. Crouch behind the couch. Just have to make it to Pop-pop. Wonder what godawful jumper Gran will make him wear this time. Last year, it was a seahorse with a Santa hat. It read: ‘Tis the sea-son’. Tis indeed the season. To throw that out.

Thank God for Pop-pop. My seahorse of sanity in an ocean of lunatics. My only chance on surviving this afternoon. Observing the family, exchanging looks, sharing a giggle. Quite looking forward to that if I’m honest. Actually, should probably get ready now. Can’t leave Pop-pop to fend off the loonies all by himself.

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