the strawberry

(When I was teaching I would often write stories while the students wrote theirs.  Eventually, I put a handful of stories in a book made by Studentreasures.  While Tina and Blaine were here, I read them my stories.  They are all based on true events and the book's title is Remembering Merry.) Now, on to "The Strawberry" story.

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    Sunday dinners are always special.  Roasts, mashed potatoes, gravy, and real dessert.  I couldn't wait to see what we were having today.

    As I rounded the corner to the kitchen nook, I spied the strawberry shortcake sitting beside the dinner plates.  "We've got strawberry shortcake!" I yelled excitedly to Sherry and Stevie, who were three feet behind me.  "Thank goodness it's not that pineapple upside-down cake Mom likes to cook," I thought.  I couldn't sand those burnt pineapples stuck to the cake like bricks in cement.  Plus, I don't want to eat anything "upside-down".  I think kids have a right to say whether they want to eat their food or not, and especially if it can be right side up, but Daddy feels differently.

    "Eat your food!" he bellowed at every meal.  "We're not wasting food!  Your mother and I work hard to give you kids a decent meal!" 

    I thought of all the poor children around the world starving at this very moment; however, I hated cleaning my plate, but if it meant we had to gag down hominy in order to get strawberry shortcake, then I ate hominy.  Usually, I hid disgusting food in my napkin, or sometimes I'd just mix it in with the mashed potatoes and swallow real fast so I couldn't taste the horrible taste.  Today, anything was worth eating to taste strawberry shortcake with a soft mound of fluffy whipped cream.

    Sherry, Stevie, and I sat down in front of our plates.  I looked at my brother and a grin began in the corners of my mouth and spread over my face.  With my right hand, I plucked a fat red strawberry off of my shortcake.  I held it gently in my right palm.  Then I snuck my spoon into my lap with my left hand, placed the strawberry in the spoon, carefully raised it to the table's edge and pointed it at Stevie.

    Stevie was such a pest.  Always wanting to be around Sherry and me.  Always wanting what we had.  Always in the way.  I heard the sound of Daddy's footsteps in the hallway.  "Now," I thought.  "Right now if you're ever going to do it."

    I tilted the spoon back towards my chest like a slingshot, let go of the tip, and watched the strawberry fly.  "OOOPS!"  Sherry and Stevie and I looked up to the ceiling right above Daddy's empty seat.  The strawberry stuck to the ceiling directly over Daddy's chair, the pointy end aimed at Daddy's chair.  "Oh, please, God.  Don't let it fall,"  I silently praayed.  My eyes widened and I gritted my teeth together.

    "If it falls, I'm telling,"  Sherry whispered.

    "Me, too!"  Stevie mouthed silently.

    We ate our dinner politely that Sunday.  There was no giggling.  Stevie didn't jump around in his seat or kick his legs back and forth on his chair in fear the strawberry would fall.  Somehow we knew we'd all be in trouble if the strawberry missile landed on Daddy's head.  We listed to Mommy and Daddy talk about the hotel and Mom's black iris she was ordering from Burpee's flower catalog.

    Months passed and the strawberry became a wet, discolored stain on the ceiling.  I don't know whatever happened to the strawberry.  One day it just wasn't on the ceiling anymore.  I do remember years later asking Mommy what that spot on the ceiling was, just to make sure Sherry and Stevie didn't rat on me; but Mom never fully understood what I was talking about.

(Thanks to Sherry for the illustrations!)

Comments

[Lou Hollis]

Awesome story Merry!