Sometimes, people tell me random things and then stories happen. Like that time a friend told me to write a Doctor Who stapler monster. Stuff like that
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Evidently Deviltown, Part 1bendingsignpostJuly 17 2011, 07:11:22 UTC
When Jackie brings him home, Rose thinks it’s the worst thing ever.
“Mum, no. We still haven’t gotten the stains out from last time.”
“It’ll be fine,” Jackie tells her, not a care in the world as she prods the newest addition to the Tyler household into the spare room. She closes the door, locks it six different ways, and only then does the thump come from the inside. That’s some heavy sedation. “This one’s different.”
“Mum, you say that about everything.”
She feels like a child for it - mum, mum, mum - but someone has to put their foot down, even if only looks like she’s stomping her way into a tantrum.
Jackie sighs. “This one is different. New prototype, Jacob says down at the store.”
Rose puts her hands on her hips. “Do you still have to feed him?”
“It’s not that different.”
“Great,” Rose says in a huff. “He’ll be dead before the month’s out, then.”
“Then stop being sentimental about it,” Jackie tells her.
“Fine,” Rose says. “What’s his-”
Her mum sighs.
“What’s its number?”
“TT40-10,” Jackie says. “If you forget, I’m sure it’s printed on it somewhere.”
“What about its papers?”
“What about what papers?”
“Mum.”
Two days later, Jackie comes out of the spare room with a disgusted look on her face.
“What?” Rose asks, watching her mother wipe her mouth.
“Something wrong with it,” Jackie says.
“Oh, don’t be picky!”
“The pressure’s all wrong, for a start,” her mum goes on.
“If it’s defective, return it.”
There’s a pause.
“Mum, you’re meant to get the papers when you buy them!”
“It was half-off!”
“I wonder why!”
Jackie sits down in the armchair with a flop and a huff. After a bit, she suggests, “Why don’t you give it a try?”
“I’m fine with frozen,” Rose says, flipping channels just to be contrary. “Unlike someone, I don’t need mine fresh.”
“I don’t want it to go to waste,” Jackie insists. She keeps on insisting until Rose gives in.
“Fine,” Rose says. “You have the rest of mine in the fridge.” She checks her watch and curses. “Off to work, then.”
“You’re not going to have any before you go?”
“I don’t want to get my clothes messed up,” she answers. “And open the curtains, the moon’s gorgeous out.”
By the time she gets home, she’s starving and exhausted. Working in a shop isn’t as easy as her mum keeps telling her it is. As if Jackie would know. Fresh is too much effort, so she grabs a pack from the fridge, reheats it in the microwave, and sips slowly, watching the stars.
“Mum, no. We still haven’t gotten the stains out from last time.”
“It’ll be fine,” Jackie tells her, not a care in the world as she prods the newest addition to the Tyler household into the spare room. She closes the door, locks it six different ways, and only then does the thump come from the inside. That’s some heavy sedation. “This one’s different.”
“Mum, you say that about everything.”
She feels like a child for it - mum, mum, mum - but someone has to put their foot down, even if only looks like she’s stomping her way into a tantrum.
Jackie sighs. “This one is different. New prototype, Jacob says down at the store.”
Rose puts her hands on her hips. “Do you still have to feed him?”
“It’s not that different.”
“Great,” Rose says in a huff. “He’ll be dead before the month’s out, then.”
“Then stop being sentimental about it,” Jackie tells her.
“Fine,” Rose says. “What’s his-”
Her mum sighs.
“What’s its number?”
“TT40-10,” Jackie says. “If you forget, I’m sure it’s printed on it somewhere.”
“What about its papers?”
“What about what papers?”
“Mum.”
Two days later, Jackie comes out of the spare room with a disgusted look on her face.
“What?” Rose asks, watching her mother wipe her mouth.
“Something wrong with it,” Jackie says.
“Oh, don’t be picky!”
“The pressure’s all wrong, for a start,” her mum goes on.
“If it’s defective, return it.”
There’s a pause.
“Mum, you’re meant to get the papers when you buy them!”
“It was half-off!”
“I wonder why!”
Jackie sits down in the armchair with a flop and a huff. After a bit, she suggests, “Why don’t you give it a try?”
“I’m fine with frozen,” Rose says, flipping channels just to be contrary. “Unlike someone, I don’t need mine fresh.”
“I don’t want it to go to waste,” Jackie insists. She keeps on insisting until Rose gives in.
“Fine,” Rose says. “You have the rest of mine in the fridge.” She checks her watch and curses. “Off to work, then.”
“You’re not going to have any before you go?”
“I don’t want to get my clothes messed up,” she answers. “And open the curtains, the moon’s gorgeous out.”
By the time she gets home, she’s starving and exhausted. Working in a shop isn’t as easy as her mum keeps telling her it is. As if Jackie would know. Fresh is too much effort, so she grabs a pack from the fridge, reheats it in the microwave, and sips slowly, watching the stars.
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