Wednesday's Three Word Wednesday

The words over at Three Word Wednesday are folly, hostile and ordinary. Slappin’ you upside the head with a little flash fiction:

Custer’D
The sun’s barely up, but there’s commotion in the kitchen, so I drag myself out of bed and stumble toward the hubbub.
In the breakfast nook, dad has a ginormous black jackboot up on a chair; he speaks in platitudes while rubbing what looks like textured snot into buttery leather gloves – oven mitts, really – decorated with strands of leather tassel.
Mother nods in quiet agreement as she furiously polishes an ornate sword with Brasso and Tarn-X.
Overnight, my father has sprouted a head full of bouncy blond curls, as well as a brushy handlebar mustache and a pointy, flaxen-hued Vandyke beard.
“What’s that?”
He turns, grins, and like a preacher, stretches his arms wide to greet me.
“Ordinary bear grease lad,” he says, scooping up the goop in two fingers, which he shovels into his mouth with a audible smack. “To make supple the leather, make it waterproof - it feeds the soul and fight off the consumption. Puts hair on your chest.”
I take a box of Coco Puffs from the cupboard instead, pile it into a bowl, pour in some milk.
“Uh-huh.”
Mother puts a worried hand to her pearls, makes pleading eyes for me to humor him.
“OK, I’ll bite. What’s the haps?”
“Today, I ride to meet the Hostiles,” he says. “My purpose is to make my narrative as truthful as possible.”
“Whatever.”
He picks up a Winchester Model 1873 rifle from the table, tosses it at me, winks.
I cock the handle, make sure there’s not a.44-caliber round in the chamber. Satisfied, I lean the thing against the stove.
“I’m going to go ahead and sit this one out, thanks.”
“I appeal to you as a soldier to spare me the humiliation of seeing my regiment march to meet the enemy and I not share its dangers.”
I plunge the spoon into the Coco Puffs, ladle up a heap past my lips, masticate.
“And you shall avenge me.”
My shoulders slump as I put the bowl in the sink.
“Your folly,” I say, dragging the back of my hand across my lips to pick up dots of milk, “will never become my Little Bighorn.”

10 comments:

anthonynorth said...

Loved this. Great fun - even the title.

Megha said...

anthonynorth is right...Custer'D...great title ;)

Life without Clots said...

light-hearted enough, yet truthful.

gautami tripathy said...

Liked the matter of fact attitude of the son! Great title!

mirror cracked from side to side

Andy Sewina said...

Yeah, liked the scenario, and the re-enactment story, going on with the father - makes for an interesting read.

Tumblewords: said...

An interesting re-alignment of then and now - enjoyed this immensely.

Jeeves said...

Nice one.

quin browne said...

proof you can live out your dreams

Greyscale Territory said...

Loved the taut tensions of serious humour in this piece!

one more believer said...

your descriptives are delightful... just abt gagged how he swallowed with two fingers... plain ol bear grease and pearls... loved it thommyg