November's story

November’s story
Never lie or cheat……
There they were in the kitchen, her father, looking at Mike and her, wide-eyed in disbelief, the
crunch of the salt shaker shards under their feet, cramped in the kitchen.
The microwave sounded the “PING” of death behind.

Mike looked rather non-descript, even a bit podgy as he ploughed rather demurely into his unrehearsed and rather prosaic speech. He began with circumspection, explaining that he had found the bottles as they walked along together, as they were coming back to do some study together. She’d heard better improvisations.
This sounded too vacuous for her father, who after hearing the rendition told them very dismissively of their ill-starred destiny as “dustmen and charlady if they didn’t come clean with the truth”.

It looked as if it was going to be a fiery aftermath.

She still clutched the bottles of alcohol and was getting flustered. The situation was fraught, only one thing to do against her dad’s badgering. They had to get out of the predicament so that her dad harboured no doubts, unless that was just a pipe dream.
The prognosis wasn’t good, as she pictured visions of her father’s retaliation, her scrubbing the toilets clean for the rest of her days.

Mike was matter of fact. He offered no retraction from my dad’s heckles. They may have been beleaguered, but perhaps the decoy could work.
Mike strenuously denied any wrong doing, babbling on about how they’d found the bottles near where the posse of down and outs hung out.

Mike and she had more chance of finding a needle in the haybale, but who knew, perhaps her dad could be mellowed if he didn’t fob them off.
Her dad didn’t buy it. “Hey Newshounds, you’ve had your moment to tell the truth. Here comes the juggernaut”.

Alas, they were slumbering. Their japes had been uncovered. Mike was ordered out, her dad had decreed that the coming of age, swanning around antics were patently finished. No more quirks, their plot was foiled, doom was looming. A throng of problems beckoned. She’d have to knuckle down and pull her socks up.
Her dad had been tipped off about the alcohol by the clean-cut Susie who roguishly had drunk too much with  her. Her dad had found Susie in the bath and wrung the truth out of her in the morning.
The rest of her fun filled life would now be called off.

Mike floundered and wound his winsome way to the door, where he fiddled nervously with the minefield of the door lock, until unexpectedly the door swung open so suddenly that Mike flew out the door, dented the dustbin, bounced off the garden shed and landed headlong in a gooey pile of manure.

Her dad laughed his head off, grabbing the bottles from her grasp. He was gimlet-eyed
now, albeit worried that Mike may have hurt himself, despite the naughtiness he’d been up to. Mike rubbed and scratched, itching to get out of the manure.

Dad barged out into the garden, hosed him off and sent him packing.

“No more singsongs for you, young lady”, shouted her dad, as he waved his finger at her and gave her a good dressing down. She’d be cleaning the house, right town to the doormat, for the rest of her days it seemed. She was gated, grounded and her phone was confiscated.
The tears stung, as did the shame. She’d be the living dead at school if Mike blabbed the truth, and if he didn’t she'd have to go to the cinema with him and watch Mike “the walrus” scoff rancid popcorn.

Like "Feeding time at the zoo." In her mind pictures of animals ravinously scoffing down their food flashed by.

She needed some life hacks, and quick, or her life would wind up in a siding. But it was that attitude which had ended her up in this mess;
In hindsight they should never have started drinking with Susie or tried to hide the truth with Mike.
When we practice to deceive, what a tangled web we weave. Needless to say, the house was spotless and her days of joy scarce.

Now boyfriends and girlfriends faced heavy vetting by her dad, until dad’s thrall to punishment began to mellow. At school she was beleaguered, but looming on the horizon was Hallowe’en, and the date with Mike.

Of course, Mike was waiting in the background, trying to dovetail his way into the story too, as her dad had told Mike's folks. He too had faced heavy seas, having to pay back in the aftermath. Even Susie who had been involved in the drunken antics but ‘fessed up, even she had faced retaliation from her parents.

The crocodiles (MIKE) had come, and they would devour the ducklings.(her)
It was time to face the music and ask her dad if she could be released from the chores and consequences of rash decisions. With a glint in his eye, he said “I hope you’ve learnt your lesson young lady”
She nodded and showed the timetable for the cinema. She’d go off to cinema, but …. Her elder brother would be with them, playing gooseberry. Even more shame.

She wanted the ground to swallow her up. She would be the laughing stock.
She phoned Susie and begged her to cook up a compromise. But having been caught red handed, Susie was reluctant to help out. She’d kept a wide berth. What was prominent in her mind was how much fun Susie was to be with, so she apologized to Suzie and organised a meal with her. They'd go for burgers! Suzie was still in her mind, nudging away at the hormones.

Next Mike. Perhaps she could figure a way to get out of the cinema trip. It would be difficult, she thought as she packed away her etchings and got ready for school. The thought of being anywhere near Mike filled her with dread.

She made an effort, and with a heavy heart decided that she would trudge off to the cinema with her elder brother to meet Mike"Swamp Thing."

It amused her , making up stupid nicknames for such a lame jerk. But then, she realised, she'd have to go and do this. What horrors awaited her, that Hallowe'en night? Trick? or Treat!

Tune into next month’s story to find out more!