Sign up now for a
Free Email Account &
your own Online
Writing Portfolio!
Username:
Password:  
Sponsored Items

Click Here To Bid  

Read a Newbie
Badges
Angel
Presented To:
Lisa Hollar

Testimonials
Tell a Friend
Know someone who'd
like this page?

Email Address:

Optional Comment:

Who's Online?
Members: 240    
Guests: 1241    

   
Total Online Now: 1481    
Writing.Com Time

Wednesday
May 30, 2012
7:01am EDT


Content Rating Notice: ------ -- Not Rated
Not Rated
  >> Static Item >> Short Story >> Other >> ID #1618305  |   Show DetailsPrinter Friendly Page Tell A Friend
DID YOU PUT THE CEREAL AWAY TODAY?
Family Time hits the Petersen house.
Rated:
------
by
This item does not allow ratings.
DID YOU PUT THE CEREAL AWAY TODAY

Type: Short Story
Words: 2,005

[Photo]
[Writer's Name]
aka [Nick Name]
[Age]
[Occupation]

Favourite Authors:
[Author1, Author2, Author3, Author4]



Nathan(10), River(13), Emily(15) and their father, William Petersen, sat down to breakfast together. Nathan and Emily quietly pondered what one of the others must have done. Why weren’t the offenders just grounded like usual? Hopefully, good behaviour at the table could persuade early parole.

Family Time made its debut at the Petersen residence.

Nathan scribbled in his journal while munching corn-flakes.

“You know the rules,” said River. He pushed the journal onto the kitchen floor. “No homework. No newspaper. No electronic devices during Family Time! Didn't Mom make that clear?”

“It’s not homework,” said Nathan. He retrieved his writing and carried on.

“Where’s Mom anyway?” asked River. “Her idea and she doesn't even show?”

"Family Time?" Emily mouthed to Nathan. She wondered if he hadn't been consulted either.

“It was my idea,” said Father.

The three glanced at each other. This was unfamiliar territory. Their mother dished out the discipline. Her buttons were all mapped out. Their father was always at work by now. There could be consequences.

“Tell me Nathan,” asked Father. “What’s your story about?”

“He's writing about what it is like to have such a famous brother,” said River. He followed up with a slug to his arm.

“Infamous,” said Nathan.

“Really?” said River. “So infamous is more famous than famous? Cool.”

Father smiled. That was the difference between their parents. Their mother handicapped fights in River's favour. If she were here, Nathan would be forced to explain the difference and rewrite the story with River as an example of famous. (Which by the way, always ended in blows after the bell). Their father on the other hand, enjoyed the mismatch. He allowed Nathan to land a few shots to River's blind side.

“Is that right?” Father asked.

“No, sir,” answered Nathan. “I’m imagining what I would do differently if I knew today was the last day of my life.”

“How morbid!” exclaimed Emily. “Everyone in this town is so introspective lately.”

“Ooooh in-tro-spec-tive,” ridiculed River in between spoonfuls.

“No Em, this is good.” Father kept the conversation from spiralling into an argument. “Life is so fragile. There’s no guarantee what tomorrow holds. So Nathan, what did you write?”

“I would go to Cedar Point. Eat caramel corn and ride the roller coasters. The ‘Dragster’, the ‘Corkscrew’ and the ‘Blue Streak’, in that order. Then start over again.”

“Think about it, Einstein,” chided Emily. "Do you want to spend half of your last day in a car to get there and then in a line?”

“So Ms. EM–press,” Nathan's head wagged to each syllable. “What would you do?”

River chimed in with: “EM–in-ence.”

“Em-pa-thy,” Nathan volleyed back.

“EM–as-cu-late” returned.

Nathan stopped. “What’s that?”

“Boys!” interrupted Father.

Emily waited for it. River took a mouthful.

“Oh Dad,” she said. “While I think of it, River offered to go in my place to that Father-Child thing at work Wednesday night.”

River was caught wide-eyed unable to make an excuse.

“River, that's great. You can see what I do all day,” he said.

Emily poked out her tongue taunting him. River grimaced in restrained protest but accepted the ambush. She got him fair and square.

“So Em,” Father continued. “Keeping to the topic, you haven’t answered the question.”

“I would go to the mall and kiss all the cuties goodbye,” she said. “Sorry Daddy, but it IS my last day.”

“And if there's time, she might even introduce herself,” said Nathan.

“Oooh. So much for being in-tro-spec-tive,” jabbed River.

The boys returned to revelling in their wit.

“So, what do you think your Mother and I would do?”.

River's laughter immediately stopped. His expression turned sour.

“I know exactly what you would do. The professor would give a lecture on it at the university and the CEO would call a board meeting to ensure a coordinated transfer of power.”

Emily and Nathan gulped to the unexpected display of angst and deep rooted resentment. Mr. Petersen kept his cool. He promised his wife.

“So, (pause) Mr. River, what would you do?” he asked.

Nathan and Emily still speechless, listened attentively. River munched his cereal making everyone wait.

“How about I tell you what I wouldn’t do?”

“That may work.”

River swallowed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“I wouldn’t make my bed. I wouldn’t pick up my clothes. I wouldn’t load the dishwasher. I wouldn’t put the cereal away. And most of all . . . I wouldn’t be doing my homework.”

He attempted to push the journal onto the floor again, as brothers do. This time Nathan was prepared. His brother was so predictable.

“It’s not homework,” repeated Nathan.

The kitchen door opened without a knock. In swaggered River’s friend.

“Good morning Clayton,” greeted Mr. Petersen. “Come join our family discussion.”

Clayton stared at River for clues as to what he walked into.

“It’s Family Time,” explained River. His expression implied ‘isn’t it obvious?’

“What would you do differently, Clayton, if you knew today was the last day of your life?”

Without thought, Clayton fired off: “I would hop on a transport to Afghanistan and kill as many al Qaeda as I can." He imitated a machine gun. "Before I die in a rainstorm of bullets!”

River returned fire.

“You guys are so weird. You’re freaking me out!” said Emily.

The cork on morning chaos at the Petersen residence threatened to pop, Father or not.

“Well???” said Mr. Petersen.

“Oh. Can we be excused?” asked Clayton.

“Of course you can. But isn’t anyone the slightest bit interested in what I would do differently?”

They all froze while rising from their seats.

“Tell us Dad. We want to hear.” Emily's well practised look of sincerity worked every time.

“I agree with River.”

“You do?” River could not contain his surprise. Adults rarely agree with him on any topic. “So you wouldn’t put the cereal away either?”

“No Son.” This time his head wagged to the syllables. “I wouldn’t do anything dif-ferent-ly.”

There was a pause for River’s benefit. This is a side of their father had never seen before. River was speechless. He has just been ‘dis-ed’ in front of his friend.

“Good one Dad,” said Emily. She pushed her brother.

“I would spend the last day with the people I care about most . . . my family,” he continued.

Simultaneously, the foursome winced as if their family would be the last people chosen to be present.

“As much time as they would grant me, that is.”

“Dad,” Nathan tried to explain. “I don’t think you get the point.”

“Of course I do.”

Emily found the conversation unbearable.

“Oh look at the time. We’ve got to go. We’re late for school. Bye Dad.”

“Bye Mr. Petersen.”

“Are you forgetting something?” asked Father.

River did an about face. He put the cereal away in the cupboard. Father handed him his school books.

Outside as they walked together, Clayton asked River: “What's up with the cornflakes box?”

“We all have responsibilities around the house,” answered River. “Mine is to put the cereal away.”

“Responsibilities?” Clayton chuckled. “Cutting the grass is a responsibility. Your weeds are the tallest on the street. You guys get away with murder. Really, what's up with the cereal?”

“Okay, but you gotta promise not to tell anybody.”

Nathan whispered to Emily: “I can't wait to hear this.”

“My mother says one day when I become (pause) infamous-”

“You mean famous,” Clayton corrected.

“No. It's infamous. Right Nathan?”

Nathan shrugged.

“When I become infamous, reporters will ask about what I had for breakfast. They are always fascinated with how you start your day. What makes one day different from any other.”

Clayton looked at Nathan for conformation.

“Don't look at me,” said Nathan. “The cereal is not my responsibility. It's a River-Mom gig.”

“So she has you going through this routine every morning just to remember the word cornflakes?” asked Clayton.

“No stupid. It's to remind me to remain humble once I become infamous.”

At this point, Clayton and River ran ahead scheming their infamy together.

“That's not Mom,” said Emily. “What did she really say?”

“She said fame, fortune, happiness, success doesn't just happen out of the blue as River expects it. You have to work at it constantly. It's a daily routine. She has him putting the cereal away as a daily reminder while he asks himself: How am I going to improve myself today?”

“You know you're going to get punched tonight?” said Emily.
© Copyright 2009 Molinara (UN: molinara at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Molinara has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
Log In To Leave Feedback
Username:
Password:
Not a Member?
Signup right now, for free!

All accounts include:
*Bullet* FREE Email @Writing.Com!
*Bullet* FREE Portfolio Services!