A Very Short Story
A VERY SHORT STORY
I was conceived in broad daylight on Easter Sunday beneath the rippling branches of a peach tree in bloom.
My mother, a prudish woman God bless her soul, had launched a last desperate campaign to recover the flavor in a marriage her husband had long ago given up on as stale.
Her theory was that of a child: You don't spit out the gum you have in your mouth just because you have chewed all the flavor out of it…you add another piece to the old thus giving it a flavor "boost".
Poor mother. What she didn't recall from her childhood is that in the end you just end up with a bigger, older wad of tasteless gum in your mouth. Or maybe that’s the way she liked it.
On Easter Sunday as my father burst within her without her feeling a thing, she opened her eyes for the first time ever during the sex act and saw the limbs of the peach trees dancing in the wind. She saw the clouds racing across a dauntless blue sky like sleek schooners in a boating competition.
She turned her head to the west and saw a dog snooping around in some old plastic bags left behind by some anonymous unconscientious fellow picnickers and it made her smile.
She turned her head to the east and met with some dandruff and maroon colored goo in my father’s ear. This made her smile some more.
And beyond his shoulder she saw the grass lie down and spring back up again and again and again.
I was conceived in broad daylight on Easter Sunday beneath the rippling branches of a peach tree in bloom.
My mother, a prudish woman God bless her soul, had launched a last desperate campaign to recover the flavor in a marriage her husband had long ago given up on as stale.
Her theory was that of a child: You don't spit out the gum you have in your mouth just because you have chewed all the flavor out of it…you add another piece to the old thus giving it a flavor "boost".
Poor mother. What she didn't recall from her childhood is that in the end you just end up with a bigger, older wad of tasteless gum in your mouth. Or maybe that’s the way she liked it.
On Easter Sunday as my father burst within her without her feeling a thing, she opened her eyes for the first time ever during the sex act and saw the limbs of the peach trees dancing in the wind. She saw the clouds racing across a dauntless blue sky like sleek schooners in a boating competition.
She turned her head to the west and saw a dog snooping around in some old plastic bags left behind by some anonymous unconscientious fellow picnickers and it made her smile.
She turned her head to the east and met with some dandruff and maroon colored goo in my father’s ear. This made her smile some more.
And beyond his shoulder she saw the grass lie down and spring back up again and again and again.
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