Flash Fiction |
That Morning “Dad! Get up, get up!” The small voice came from the floor. “It’s Saturday…” Dad mumbled. “You need to get up!” “It’s my day off.” Jared stood there looking at the lump of covers, then started again. “Time to get up! Wake up!” “Jared!” the voice came a little louder, “It’s Saturday! Saturdays I get to sleep late. I don’t have to shower; I don’t wear a suit! I don’t have to eat cereal! It’s my day off!” “Well…” Jared started, “there’s something in the kitchen, I need you.” Suddenly more awake, and now nervous, Dad asked, “Is Mom there? She’s usually there when you get up…” “I think she’s… down cellar…?” Jared said quietly. Now understanding it must be something important to Jared. Sandy must be down cellar doing laundry… Dad sat up. “OK, what’s up. Why do I need to get up?” Jared suddenly looked a tad scared; he quickly turned and ran out of the room. Now in a bit of panic, Dad jumped out of bed. The light was on in the kitchen. As he bolted through the doorway, suddenly two voices yelled, “Happy Birthday!” Dad stopped short. It was October, his birthday was in April, there was something he didn’t know. He looked at his wife who was gritting her teeth as she smiled, and had her eyes wide open as if to say, ‘don’t spoil this!!!’ He jumped on board. “Wow! Thank you!!!” he said, giving Jared a big hug. Then Jared said, “I made you a cake!” Mystery solved, as he looked at his birthday cake made of cereal, peanut butter and sugar cubes. It was actually delicious. Jared eventually grew up to be a very famous, master pastry chef. And Dad always remembered that morning, and he always laughed when he did. |