“Mumsie, when are you leaving?” I asked as I ate my breakfast, it was a weekend which means that I’ve got to work in the café. Which is not an issue. I love the place.
“In about 4 days” She smiled, excited.
“Awesome” I said and gobbled down the last hash-brown.
We drove, music blaring from the speakers.
“This is horrid music” My mother snarled at the “unwanted” noise.
“It is not! You’re just old” I shrugged, and hid my smile so that I looked serious.
“I am not OLD!” She honked.
“Why did you have to honk?” I asked, furrowing my brow.
“It was my version of a full stop. Hey! Poopy! That’s not my point, my point is. Im. Not. OLD!” She cried.
“I swear you just called me Poopy, which is not cool. And yes mother, you are not old! You’re like, 3 years old!”
“Well, that means ill look younger when im 80, which is every woman’s dream. MILF” she said matter of factly, while I choked on my own spit.
“DID YOU JUST SAY MILF?!” I yelled in shock. She was definitely 3.
“Erm.. yea?”
“Do you even know what it means!?” I said, now outraged, but slightly amused.
“Yes” I folded my arms, waiting for her response “Maybe I’ll look forty” she shrugged.
“Are you serious right now?” what in the worllddddd.
“Yes, why? Does it not mean that?” She wondered in pure confusion.
“NO, not even CLOSE”
“What then?”
“I don’t want to say it” I said stubbornly.
“I wont let you bake if you don’t tell me Poppy Somers. I have been using this acronym all day”
“Shit…” I mutter, shes sooooooo like UGH.
“What does it mean?” she pressed.
“Motheridliketofuck” I bit my cheek and looked out the window while shaking my leg nervously.
“what what what?” she said agitated now.
“MOTHER ID LIKE TO DUCK WITH AN F MOTHER” I screamed, she had her thinking face on. Wondering what I was on about. And as soon as it clicked. She made the car drift. Not bad Mumsie. She honked at the air, a nice long honk. And yelled at the same time. She heaved.
“Oh no” She cried.
“Oh Yes” I chuckled.
“Not funny!” She stared wide eyed me.
“Mom! We’re lateee. Cafeee!” I pushed, trying to change the subject. MILF. Maybe ill look forty. Wow mom wow.
“Right” She said, still red from her realization.
***
I went to speak to my first customers of the day, they gave me A LOT to write down. specifics like how much chocolate sauce for their pancakes in grams and everything. After mentally eye-rolling at the picky bunch I walked over and into the kitchen.
“Sam!” I called out. My childhood best friend and the cook of our little café. Normally we both cook together, and, bond over food. But today, theres a lot of rush. I’m thankful for one thing, by moving from US to UK, I’d be closer to my diaper-buddy. My bub.
YOU ARE READING
My Memory Box
AléatoireThis is a series of books that i had started a while back but could never finish, which is a real shame, because most of my readers who had actually started reading them while they were on my profile really loved the plot and the characters and what...
