100 days: Day 8

09/12/2009

The Visit.

‘Honey, we’re here!’ called Samantha through the open doorway, ‘you alright with those?’ she gently asked her mother and father as they lugged three loaded holdalls into the hallway.

‘Yes fine dear, as long as you’re putting the kettle on,’ answered her father as he wiped a film of sweat from his forehead and critically surveyed the hallway, ‘hmm,’ he hmmed.

‘I’ll ask Kevin to make us some drinks’ she smiled, noticing her father’s silent evaluation. She bounded toward the sitting room following the soft burble of television noise. ‘Honey’ she began, and promptly stopped. Kevin sat naked on the couch, unabashed. He beamed at Samantha relishing her confusion and embarrassment.

‘Hi honey,’ he delivered in a style akin to Brian Blessed. Samantha was frozen.

‘What the,’ she grunted, her volume in increasing with each syllable. She stalled herself and closed the door. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she unreservedly shouted. Kevin lent forward and smacked his lips, which, as she knew carried the the meaning, “well, let me begin”.

‘Well,’ he began, ‘remember my parents visited the other week, yeah?’

‘Yes,’ she answered impatiently, attempting to coerce him to his point.

‘Well I have the distinct memory of you insisting on embarrassing me in front of them while at the dinner table,’ he continued.

‘What? How?’ she asked, increasing flustered.

‘Are you in the lounge?’ called her father, venturing towards the doorway, ‘is the elusive Kevin in there with you?’

‘Yes, we’re in here Clive,’ called Kevin, smiling at Samantha.

‘One moment Dad!’ shouted Samantha, her retinas looking as if they were about to detach. ‘Well?’ She persisted.

‘Yes, well, we were at the dinner table and you, you are fully aware that when eating a three course meal, cutlery is used from the outside in, it’s the basics,’ he waited for her response, it seemed to be stuck in her throat. ‘I had to beg my mother not to leave that weekend, she was this close.’ He pursed his lips in anticipation of her apology.

‘And that is what this is about?’ she uttered.

‘One faux pas deserves another?’

‘Dad,’ Sam called. ‘Actually, lets go out for coffee.’

‘But we only just got here, are we not finally going to meet this Kevin chap that’s stolen away my daughter?’ he called from directly behind the door.

‘No, it turns out you’re not,’ called Samantha.

Conclusively, the end.

‘Honey, were here!’ called Samantha through the open doorway, ‘you alright with those?’ she gently asked her mother and father as they lugged three loaded holdalls into the hallway.

‘Yes fine dear, as long as you’re putting the kettle on,’ answered her father as he wiped a film of sweat from his forehead and critically surveyed the hallway, ‘hmm,’ he hmmed.

‘I’ll ask Kevin to make us some drinks’ she smiled, noticing her father’s silent evaluation. She bounded toward the sitting room following the soft burble of television noise. ‘Honey’ she began, and promptly stopped. Kevin sat naked on the couch, unabashed. He beamed at Samantha relishing her confusion and embarrassment.

‘Hi honey,’ he delivered in a style akin to Brian Blessed. Samantha was frozen.

‘What the,’ she grunted, her volume in increasing with each syllable. She stalled herself and closed the door. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she unreservedly shouted. Kevin lent forward and smacked his lips, which, as she knew carried the the meaning, “well, let me begin”.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘remember my parents visited the other week, yeah?’

‘Yes,’ she answered impatiently, attempting to coerce him to his point.

‘Well I have a distinct memory of you insisting on embarrassing me in front of them while at the dinner table,’ he continued.

‘What? How?’ she asked, increasing flustered.

‘Are you in the lounge?’ called her father, venturing towards the doorway, ‘is the elusive Kevin in there with you?’

‘Yes, we’re in here Clive,’ called Kevin, smiling at Samantha.

‘One moment Dad!’ shouted Samantha, her retinas looking as if they were about to detach. ‘Well?’ She persisted.

‘Yes, well, we were at the dinner table and you, you are fully aware when eating a three course meal cutlery is used from the outside in, it’s the basics,’ he waited for her response, it seemed to be stuck in her throat. ‘I had to beg my mother not to leave that weekend, she was this close.’ He pursed his lips in anticipation of her apology.

‘And that is what this is about?’ she uttered.

‘Well, what do you think Sam?’

‘Dad,’ Sam called. ‘Actually, lets go out for coffee.’

‘But we only just got here, are we not finally going to meet this Kevin chap that stolen away my daughter?’ he called from directly behind the door.

‘No your not, it turns out,’ called Samantha.

Conclusively, the end.

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One Response to “100 days: Day 8”

  1. Pally said

    I can’t believe you went autobiographic this early.

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