Monday, February 16, 2009

the start of a story i wrote a looong time ago...

She was a wreck. Not just any old run-of-the-mill neighborhood fender bender. Oh, no, she was a four-car pileup in the middle of the southbound highway and another three cars on the northbound side from watching the first wreck too intently. All eight lanes backed up for miles and miles. Call the kids and tell them to heat up last night’s lasagna and tuck themselves in because you’ll be lucky to make it home for the eleven o’clock news.

Today was nothing out of the ordinary. Waking up before the butt crack of dawn, pushing the snooze button too many times, and scrambling to get out of the hole she called a home on time. Beverly Taylor gave up on her ultra-frizzy hair after fifteen minutes of pleading with it to behave itself. “I’m uncontrollable and there’s nothing you can do about it,” it teased her each morning. She threw it in a ponytail and decided to forget about it until tomorrow’s battle.

She was battling a severe bout with PMS and could barely bear to be awake. ‘I look like a pubescent teenager,’ she thought to herself looking at the acne covered face staring at her in the mirror. ‘Note to self: stop at the drugstore and stock up on concealer and zit cream.’ Digging through her closet, she chose a loose fitting skirt and a revealing top. Not that anyone was going to see it under her gorgeous work apron, but it made her feel better knowing that her top half was still on her side while her uterus was trying to murder her.

Grabbing her everything-but-the-kitchen-sink shoulder bag, she was almost out the door when her phone rang. ‘Who would be calling me at this hour?’ she wondered, slightly irritated. It was her mom. Of course. She adored her mom to bits, but cringed at her perfect timing, or lack thereof.

“Why are you answering the phone? Shouldn’t you be at work right now?” her mother questioned.

“Um, yeah, Mom, I’m on my way out the door. If you expected me to be at work, why didn’t you call my cell? You know I’m getting rid of my regular phone, so you need to stop calling this number. And what are you doing up now? It’s 4:30 in the morning.” Beverly sounded a little less than pleased to be hearing from mommy dearest right now and hated being annoyed at her, but it was frustrating when her mom only remembered the things she wanted to.

“There was a special on the home shopping channel for this amazing new kitchen gear that I just couldn’t miss! Pots, pans, knife sets, blenders, juicers…anyways, Boo, I’ve got a…friend I’d like you to meet.”

Shit. This always meant trouble. “Mom. I’ve got enough friends. I don’t need you to set me up on any more dates.” This was a weekly occurrence. “My hairdresser’s nephew just moved into town, and I think you two would get on great.” “No thanks, Mom.” “But he’s handsome. And he’s a pharmacist. He could get you free prescriptions!”

That was enough for one morning. “I’ve got to go to work now, Mom, I’ll call you later.” First thing on today’s list: Join the Witness Protection Program to escape everyday family escapades.

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