It is finally Friday. This week has seemed both really long and really short to me. There always seems to be heaps to do after a vacation and the piles of paper make it seem like there won’t be enough time and that the week is too short, but after time off with no schedule time also seems to drag as routine returns. I always find it strange. Still we move forward and next week will be back to normal speed. At least until Christmas. Foir now, there is the Friday Prompt. And so forward on…
I like the start of this. Not sure where it is going, but I like the start of this. I find it an interesting set up and want to find out why Charlie is with his Uncle Mike as well as why people keep giving Mike pickles.
Friday, December 2nd: The pantry contained twenty-seven jars of pickles.
The pantry contained twenty seven jars of pickles. The jars were all similar and all clearly handmade rather than purchased form a factory. The jars took up most of the space in the pantry and Charlie looked in vain for anything resembling something other than pickles. He found a half hidden jar of strawberry jam, likewise handmade and with a gingham cloth ribbon tied around its middle. The bow looked picture perfect and Charlie frowned at it.
It didn’t look like something he was supposed to eat. It looked like something fancy that would be saved for company. ‘If Uncle Mike had any company,’ Charlie thought. Still his mother’s orders to mind his manners ringing in his head, Charlie decided he had better ask before eating the jam.
He picked up the jar and backed out of the pickle filled pantry.
Uncle Mike was in his office and typing in frantically on the laptop keyboard. His parents frequently worked from home and there was always the rule of not disturbing them. He stood in the doorway watching for a break.
Uncle Mike’s head snapped up and his fingers paused above the keys, he turned to look at him standing in the doorway.
“Knew I felt someone watching me,” Mike said. “You need something?’
The words were gruff but Charlie didn’t’ take offense. Uncle Mike spoke like that to pretty much everyone. His mother called it lack of social graces, but Charlie remembered Mike pulling him aside when he was little and telling him that he wasn’t used to kids and tended to just talk to them like adults. He then said that he hoped it didn’t make Charlie cry. It was a short and brusque conversation but after that Charlie found he rather liked Uncle Mike’s way of talking. It balanced out his Aunt Linda’s cooing at him like he was still a baby or one of her Pekinese show dogs.
“Is this special or can I eat it,” Charlie asked. He held out the jar.
Mike snorted. “It’s jam, course you can eat it.”
Charlie nodded and pulled the hand with the jam back into his chest. “why do you have so many pickles?”
“Pickles?” Mike asked. His forehead crinkled in confusion. “Oh,” the creases smoothed out. “That’s what they are. Neighbors bring them round, I say thanks and put them in the pantry. Are they all pickles?”
“Except for this jar,” Charlie told him.
“Huh,” Mike said. “I wonder why that is? “ He nodded to the jar. “You’re hungry then?”
Charlie nodded.
“Got enough in there to eat other than pickles? For now I mean.”
Again Charlie nodded.
“Good,” then when I’m done at say…” he looked around for the clock and realized there was no wall clock in the room. He looked at his laptop. “Three ish we can go to the store and get more than pickles.”
“Okay,” Charlie replied. Mike turned back to his laptop and Charlie took the Jam back to the kitchen.
Charlie heard the click of a few keys on the keyboard and then a pause. “Why would they always bring me pickles?”
Ten til Midnight 