Cleaning House, a story of the Aunt Family for the Mini-Giraffe-Call @anke
For ankewehner's prompt
Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ
Beryl-modern-era. After What to do about Auntie X ( LJ)
"All right," their mother told them. "We have one day to do this, and do it right. Do we have everything?"
"I've got the mops and buckets," Chalcedony sighed. "And the rubber gloves."
"I've got the vet ready," Stone agreed, "and every cat carrier anyone in the family could provide. I also have a list of friends and relatives who'd be willing to foster a cat."
"I've got the distract-Aunt-Beatrix package," Amy giggled. She got off light in this one, at least in the initial phase.
"I've got four kinds of incense and three cleaning solutions from Aunt Eva," Beryl put in. "Something in here ought to work."
"And I have new litter boxes, new litter, and the materials for an outdoor run. I think we're set. Stone, your friend is willing to pick you and the cats up?"
"He owes me big time," Stone nodded.
"Well, I'll make him some cookies when this is over, nevertheless. All right, children, let's go."
This was, Beryl had to admit, crazy in a particularly their-family sort of way. Here they were, the day before Thanksgiving, tromping over to their Aunt's hose to scrub down every sign that she had turned into a crazy cat lady. In hopes of... what, exactly, except a pleasant-smelling Thanksgiving, Beryl didn't know. If Aunt Beatrix has decided to collect cats, Beryl didn't know of a force in the world that could stop her.
Distract her, that part was easy. And the polite lie Mom gave her was simply "we want to help you get the place ready for the festivities." So Amy went to work being her absolutely adorable sweet-enough-to-cause-diabetes ballerina self, dancing for Aunt Beatrix in her parlor, while the rest of them scrubbed, washed, aired, bleached, vinegared, and swept; scrubbed, sorted, aired, archived, and put in the attic; scrubbed, dumped, lysol'd, repositioned, and concealed.
Stone may have managed to avoid the bleach and scrub-bucket, but only because he was busily collecting every cat and putting them in a cat carrier, wearing elbow-length leather gloves and murmuring pet-charms under his breath. Beryl noticed he didn't do that around Mom, and wondered when he was going to tell the family he had the spark - and what they'd do about it.
Only as they got the cats in Stone's friends truck, the last litter pan replaced, and the three incense sticks lit, did Aunt Beatrix totter out of her parlor. She looked around, smiling a little, and then more, and then, sadly, told Beryl's mom,
"Thank you, dear, but it won't last. They can't let it last."
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/259582.html. You can comment here or there.
Aunt Family has a landing page here on DW and here on LJ
Beryl-modern-era. After What to do about Auntie X ( LJ)
"All right," their mother told them. "We have one day to do this, and do it right. Do we have everything?"
"I've got the mops and buckets," Chalcedony sighed. "And the rubber gloves."
"I've got the vet ready," Stone agreed, "and every cat carrier anyone in the family could provide. I also have a list of friends and relatives who'd be willing to foster a cat."
"I've got the distract-Aunt-Beatrix package," Amy giggled. She got off light in this one, at least in the initial phase.
"I've got four kinds of incense and three cleaning solutions from Aunt Eva," Beryl put in. "Something in here ought to work."
"And I have new litter boxes, new litter, and the materials for an outdoor run. I think we're set. Stone, your friend is willing to pick you and the cats up?"
"He owes me big time," Stone nodded.
"Well, I'll make him some cookies when this is over, nevertheless. All right, children, let's go."
This was, Beryl had to admit, crazy in a particularly their-family sort of way. Here they were, the day before Thanksgiving, tromping over to their Aunt's hose to scrub down every sign that she had turned into a crazy cat lady. In hopes of... what, exactly, except a pleasant-smelling Thanksgiving, Beryl didn't know. If Aunt Beatrix has decided to collect cats, Beryl didn't know of a force in the world that could stop her.
Distract her, that part was easy. And the polite lie Mom gave her was simply "we want to help you get the place ready for the festivities." So Amy went to work being her absolutely adorable sweet-enough-to-cause-diabetes ballerina self, dancing for Aunt Beatrix in her parlor, while the rest of them scrubbed, washed, aired, bleached, vinegared, and swept; scrubbed, sorted, aired, archived, and put in the attic; scrubbed, dumped, lysol'd, repositioned, and concealed.
Stone may have managed to avoid the bleach and scrub-bucket, but only because he was busily collecting every cat and putting them in a cat carrier, wearing elbow-length leather gloves and murmuring pet-charms under his breath. Beryl noticed he didn't do that around Mom, and wondered when he was going to tell the family he had the spark - and what they'd do about it.
Only as they got the cats in Stone's friends truck, the last litter pan replaced, and the three incense sticks lit, did Aunt Beatrix totter out of her parlor. She looked around, smiling a little, and then more, and then, sadly, told Beryl's mom,
"Thank you, dear, but it won't last. They can't let it last."
This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/259582.html. You can comment here or there.