The following is a snip from a short story I’m working on right now. I love it when kids are like best friends with their parents, usually I find that those cross out the unnecessary drama that depict cliched relationships. What do you think?
I slouched on the bean bag, my dress in a mess. I never slouch. I’m the chick that preaches “thou shalt not slouch” and I’m in a state where I don’t give two ducks, or geese which are actually more nasty.
“Look dad, this is going to sound all poetic and dangerously cheesy but here it is: when love is the religion, trust is king and truth is queen – or whatever – and together they make it work. You do want it to work, don’t you?”
He looked up at the ceiling, lips pursed. Then he smirked, looking a bit evil with eyes red and puffy from crying.
“Yeah, that’s pretty Cheetos to me,” he said.
“Eat your soup,” I snapped, smart ass.
“And do try to get some sleep. You’re beginning to look pathetic. Or else I’ll call him myself.”
“Keep your hair on, lady,” he hissed, jumping a couple inches off the mattress, and reached for the bowl.