Word fic
I needed a wee break from my big bang, and so wrote a word fic. But this time, it's three words for one story. nyteflyer gave me mushroom and vacuum, and a blind pick from the dictionary gave me scrape. About 540 words and rated G.
Scrape, vacuum, mushroom
“We’ll just have to go without.”
“No way.” Don yanked out the couch cushions and tossed them on the floor. “I know I heard some change fall out of my pocket the other night.”
I watched as he stuck his fingers in the crevice, that nasty spot right behind the springs. He pulled out a sock that looked like it could walk on its own, a pencil, his old sunglasses and a gray lump that resembled a dead mouse.
“My lucky rabbit’s foot!” He jammed the awful thing in his pocket and continued his search. “Help me, Timmy.”
I got down on my knees, took a deep breath and slipped my hands in beside his. I touched something cold. The change? I hoped so. I grabbed hold of it and pulled it out.
“A quarter! We’re getting there. Keep looking.”
I slid my fingers to the right, trying to ignore lint balls as big as cats. Don had assured me he always vacuumed the entire couch, not just the cushions. I should have known better.
“A dime! Now, all we need is a nickel and it’s pizza time.” Don felt along the crevice directly under the armrest. “Yes! No, wait. It’s just a bottle cap.”
I searched the other side, felt another coin and pulled it out. It was a dime.
“Here’s a dime.” I held it out to him.
He took the dime and kissed me. “And there’s your change.”
I watched as he counted our few dollar bills and the small pile of coins. We were absolutely broke. Our rent was due in ten days, and we had next to nothing in the refrigerator or the cupboards. On top of that, Christmas was coming.
“You do realize we’ve hit bottom, don’t you?” I pushed a stray penny back into the pile. “We’re picking through couch lint to find enough money to buy a twelve-inch pizza.”
“I know,” he said, still counting. “Isn’t it great?”
I wanted to say, no, it isn’t great. It’s terrible. We should be better off than this, have enough money in the bank so that buying a pizza wasn’t such a big deal. We were both working long, hard hours, and we still didn’t have enough money to be safe, let alone comfortable. No, it wasn’t great.
I was about to mention all this when he turned to me, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “What do you want on it? We can get two toppings.”
In that moment, I realized how wrong I was. It was great, beyond great. In that moment I knew I’d rather be broke and living with him than financially better off with someone who could never love me as much as Don did.
So what if we didn’t have much money? Things wouldn’t always be this way. Besides, my next paycheck would just cover the rent, we still had a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, and we didn’t need anything for Christmas except each other. On top of all that, we had enough money for pizza. Looking at it that way, I realized how truly rich I was.
“Mushrooms,” I said, smiling back at him. “And sausage.”
Scrape, vacuum, mushroom
“We’ll just have to go without.”
“No way.” Don yanked out the couch cushions and tossed them on the floor. “I know I heard some change fall out of my pocket the other night.”
I watched as he stuck his fingers in the crevice, that nasty spot right behind the springs. He pulled out a sock that looked like it could walk on its own, a pencil, his old sunglasses and a gray lump that resembled a dead mouse.
“My lucky rabbit’s foot!” He jammed the awful thing in his pocket and continued his search. “Help me, Timmy.”
I got down on my knees, took a deep breath and slipped my hands in beside his. I touched something cold. The change? I hoped so. I grabbed hold of it and pulled it out.
“A quarter! We’re getting there. Keep looking.”
I slid my fingers to the right, trying to ignore lint balls as big as cats. Don had assured me he always vacuumed the entire couch, not just the cushions. I should have known better.
“A dime! Now, all we need is a nickel and it’s pizza time.” Don felt along the crevice directly under the armrest. “Yes! No, wait. It’s just a bottle cap.”
I searched the other side, felt another coin and pulled it out. It was a dime.
“Here’s a dime.” I held it out to him.
He took the dime and kissed me. “And there’s your change.”
I watched as he counted our few dollar bills and the small pile of coins. We were absolutely broke. Our rent was due in ten days, and we had next to nothing in the refrigerator or the cupboards. On top of that, Christmas was coming.
“You do realize we’ve hit bottom, don’t you?” I pushed a stray penny back into the pile. “We’re picking through couch lint to find enough money to buy a twelve-inch pizza.”
“I know,” he said, still counting. “Isn’t it great?”
I wanted to say, no, it isn’t great. It’s terrible. We should be better off than this, have enough money in the bank so that buying a pizza wasn’t such a big deal. We were both working long, hard hours, and we still didn’t have enough money to be safe, let alone comfortable. No, it wasn’t great.
I was about to mention all this when he turned to me, his blue eyes sparkling with excitement. “What do you want on it? We can get two toppings.”
In that moment, I realized how wrong I was. It was great, beyond great. In that moment I knew I’d rather be broke and living with him than financially better off with someone who could never love me as much as Don did.
So what if we didn’t have much money? Things wouldn’t always be this way. Besides, my next paycheck would just cover the rent, we still had a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, and we didn’t need anything for Christmas except each other. On top of all that, we had enough money for pizza. Looking at it that way, I realized how truly rich I was.
“Mushrooms,” I said, smiling back at him. “And sausage.”