My Brother-in-Law Jeff requested a microstory to commemorate his wedding on Saturday, so here it is. Saves me from having to buy him a toaster.
"The Wedding Night"
Jeff laid on the hotel bed, waiting for his new bride to come out of the bathroom.
He was thinking, and he wished he wasn't, about his father. His father had come to him during the reception and offered him $2000 if he didn't consummate his marriage tonight. His Dad didn't have any reason to do this. Nothing moral, ethical, or symbolic. He just wanted Jeff to squirm. Because he, they, could really use the money.
He could lie, he thought to himself. They could do whatever they wanted and then just tell his father they had been too tired.
Except his Dad wouldn't buy it. He wouldn't believe him, and Jeff had never been able to keep a secret very long.
He groaned and decided he would bite the bullet. Rolling over on his side, he figured if only he could fall asleep before Jessie came out of the bathroom, he might...
"I've got a surprise for you," she said suddenly, and his eyes jerked open. He hadn't even heard her leave the bathroom. She was standing in the shadows at the foot of the bed cradling something in her arms. He thought it might be a puppy, the way she was holding it, but it wasn't making any noise.
"What is it?" he asked.
She smiled and walked slowly into the light, revealing a mottled pink and brown sculpted mass. It appeared to be shaped like a little man.
"Our baby!" she cried, jubilant, and flounced over to the edge of the bed where he was now sitting.
Bending over, she gave him a closer look at it, whispering, more to the sculpture than to him, "Our Meat Baby..."
It did, indeed, appear to be made of meat, he noticed, looking at it. Probably eight pounds of ground beef.
There were no clothes except for baby shoes, mashed onto the ends of the legs.
"I think she should probably sleep with us for the first month or so," she said, setting the mass on the middle of the bed next to Jeff. He stared at it from the corner of his eye.
"We should get some sleep," she said, yawning. "It's been a long day, and it's already late."
There was a click, and the room went dark.
He felt her slip into bed on the other side of the Baby, and the disturbance caused the meat to shift position. He felt the Meat Baby, wet and cold, roll against his bare upper arm.
"Aw," she said, cooing. "She likes you, sweetheart!"
He let out a sound that he hoped sounded like a laugh and shuddered.
It looked as if he would be getting that money from his father after all.
"The Wedding Night"
Jeff laid on the hotel bed, waiting for his new bride to come out of the bathroom.
He was thinking, and he wished he wasn't, about his father. His father had come to him during the reception and offered him $2000 if he didn't consummate his marriage tonight. His Dad didn't have any reason to do this. Nothing moral, ethical, or symbolic. He just wanted Jeff to squirm. Because he, they, could really use the money.
He could lie, he thought to himself. They could do whatever they wanted and then just tell his father they had been too tired.
Except his Dad wouldn't buy it. He wouldn't believe him, and Jeff had never been able to keep a secret very long.
He groaned and decided he would bite the bullet. Rolling over on his side, he figured if only he could fall asleep before Jessie came out of the bathroom, he might...
"I've got a surprise for you," she said suddenly, and his eyes jerked open. He hadn't even heard her leave the bathroom. She was standing in the shadows at the foot of the bed cradling something in her arms. He thought it might be a puppy, the way she was holding it, but it wasn't making any noise.
"What is it?" he asked.
She smiled and walked slowly into the light, revealing a mottled pink and brown sculpted mass. It appeared to be shaped like a little man.
"Our baby!" she cried, jubilant, and flounced over to the edge of the bed where he was now sitting.
Bending over, she gave him a closer look at it, whispering, more to the sculpture than to him, "Our Meat Baby..."
It did, indeed, appear to be made of meat, he noticed, looking at it. Probably eight pounds of ground beef.
There were no clothes except for baby shoes, mashed onto the ends of the legs.
"I think she should probably sleep with us for the first month or so," she said, setting the mass on the middle of the bed next to Jeff. He stared at it from the corner of his eye.
"We should get some sleep," she said, yawning. "It's been a long day, and it's already late."
There was a click, and the room went dark.
He felt her slip into bed on the other side of the Baby, and the disturbance caused the meat to shift position. He felt the Meat Baby, wet and cold, roll against his bare upper arm.
"Aw," she said, cooing. "She likes you, sweetheart!"
He let out a sound that he hoped sounded like a laugh and shuddered.
It looked as if he would be getting that money from his father after all.
Ah, Dean, where were you when *I* got married? Forget the toaster; this is more brilliant than crystal, more precious than sterling silver.
Perhaps you could commemorate my 13th anniversary? (Just 6 weeks away.)
Posted by: Laura | August 20, 2007 at 10:43 AM
The very best of luck to the new family...er, I mean, couple.
For the record, this microstory made me laugh harder than anything I'd read in the past, oh, month. Nice.
Posted by: Gretchen | August 20, 2007 at 11:23 AM
I am having a serious case of Deja Vu. Have we had a meat-baby story before? Because this sounds oddly familiar. And there hasn't been a meat-baby story before... Dun dun dun.
Oh, and congrats Jeff.
Posted by: Enna Isilee | August 20, 2007 at 11:40 AM
O_O is all I have to say.
Congratulations, Jeff.
Posted by: Q | August 20, 2007 at 02:13 PM
Also, has Jessie seen this?
Posted by: Q | August 20, 2007 at 02:57 PM
Congrats Jeff!
Dean, that was marvelous. It was tense, funny, and gross, a true microstory!
Posted by: Katee | August 21, 2007 at 07:01 AM
Also, did you hear that Hurricane Dean is the third strongest in recorded history?
Posted by: Q | August 22, 2007 at 03:42 PM
I wonder why. :)
Posted by: flyyhigh | August 23, 2007 at 09:15 AM
I immeadiately thought of this blog when I found out the name of the hurricane. Do you have friends in high places Dean?
Who names hurricanes anyway?
Posted by: Enna Isilee | August 23, 2007 at 03:14 PM
Ah, but he might need a toaster oven all the new meat in his life.
Posted by: Stubby LaRue | August 24, 2007 at 01:32 PM