The Salt Cellar
by 
Laurence
|
Posted: Sunday, April 11, 2010 Word Count: 400 Summary: Week 203 Challenge |
I was one of those jokes bought on holiday rarely used but I guess I have charm because despite being a little chipped I still adorn the Finney's table. There have been some good times and bad. At the moment there’s friction in the air. Hazel wants to go away with her boyfriend for the weekend and Dad, Joe, has said no. Hazel doesn't intend letting it lie so there will be another row during the meal.
'Lay the table Ben,' yells Joyce, 'Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.'
Well that spells trouble because Ben hates laying the table. I will ever get used to cutlery clattering on the table.
'Done!'
'I don't think so potato head,' says Hazel.
'Don't bicker you to,' interjects Joyce.
'He started it,' says Hazel.
Excuse me I don't think so. Poor Ben may not have laid the table to your standard Miss High- and- mighty- no- body- understands- me but I didn't see you help. In fact you haven't helped since you met that lanky drip of a boyfriend. What do you see in him? Hazel please put me down. Ouch there was no need to slam me down on the table.
'This is stupid. Why do we still use it?' It's an embarrassment.'
Have you looked at yourself recently? Call that a skirt? It looks more like a belt!
'Garry says we shouldn't use salt.'
'Who's interested in what Garry says?' Ben ducks to avoid Hazel’s hand.
Now put me down please. I’m flying! That hurt. Now look what you've done. I'm shattered. The tender hands of Joyce gently picks up my pieces. I can see a tear forming in her eye.
'Hazel, how could you? You’re grounded. Don’t start laughing at your sister, Ben.’
Joyce places the pieces on the work bench.
We've been through a lot Joyce. I can remember when it was just you and Paul long before the kids came along. I'm useless now, fit only for the bin. Forgive me if I have a little cry.
***
Later that evening Joyce and Paul sit at the kitchen table piecing me together and talking about past times. I try not to listen because it is really private. I had to smile when they say how important I am. The glue is a bit tickly but I will mend. Everything would be fine in the morning; it always is.
'Lay the table Ben,' yells Joyce, 'Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.'
Well that spells trouble because Ben hates laying the table. I will ever get used to cutlery clattering on the table.
'Done!'
'I don't think so potato head,' says Hazel.
'Don't bicker you to,' interjects Joyce.
'He started it,' says Hazel.
Excuse me I don't think so. Poor Ben may not have laid the table to your standard Miss High- and- mighty- no- body- understands- me but I didn't see you help. In fact you haven't helped since you met that lanky drip of a boyfriend. What do you see in him? Hazel please put me down. Ouch there was no need to slam me down on the table.
'This is stupid. Why do we still use it?' It's an embarrassment.'
Have you looked at yourself recently? Call that a skirt? It looks more like a belt!
'Garry says we shouldn't use salt.'
'Who's interested in what Garry says?' Ben ducks to avoid Hazel’s hand.
Now put me down please. I’m flying! That hurt. Now look what you've done. I'm shattered. The tender hands of Joyce gently picks up my pieces. I can see a tear forming in her eye.
'Hazel, how could you? You’re grounded. Don’t start laughing at your sister, Ben.’
Joyce places the pieces on the work bench.
We've been through a lot Joyce. I can remember when it was just you and Paul long before the kids came along. I'm useless now, fit only for the bin. Forgive me if I have a little cry.
***
Later that evening Joyce and Paul sit at the kitchen table piecing me together and talking about past times. I try not to listen because it is really private. I had to smile when they say how important I am. The glue is a bit tickly but I will mend. Everything would be fine in the morning; it always is.