0.00
(0 votes)
You must login to vote
|
|
|
Remembering Old Charlie Brown
My dad had just asked me if I remembered the old man who used to live down the road from us, when my mother breezed into the room. Talking as she moved, she dumped her bags on the table.
“You’ll never believe it, but remember Charlie Brown who lived at the bottom of our road, well he’s only gone and …”
“Margaret!” My Dad yelled, interrupting her. “I was telling her” he whined.
“Well you’re just too bloomin” slow Arthur so that’s your tough luck,” she said, “I’m telling it now.”
“ Not fair,” he grumbled, “you interrupted me.”
Both sulked and two pairs of eyes turned towards me.
“Don’t look at me. I’m keeping out of this and anyway I’m late. Charlie Brown and whatever he did will have to wait.” I gathered up my things and started edging towards the door. My parents loved the power being old had given them both; they knew I wouldn’t be able to leave if they just kept talking.
“It’s my story,” Dad complained, “and I want to tell her.” He banged his fist on the table for emphasis. Mum raised her eyes to the ceiling, folded her arms across her chest and said, “Go on then, get on with it.”
Dad settled himself, tugged at his collar, cleared his throat and began to speak
“Well” he said slowly, enjoying the attention, “it was like this…”
“Oh for goodness sake the girl is late, didn’t you hear her, she hasn’t got all day. Spit it out man, or we’ll all be dead and buried before you ever get to the good bit.”
My father glared at my mother and then turned his brightest smile towards me. “As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted,” He enunciated each word slowly, shooting poison glances at my mother as he spoke.
“He killed his wife,” my mother blurted triumphantly.
I watched my father visibly sag towards the table. His jaw hung open for just a second before his mouth set into a firm line.
“What?” Mum asked with feigned innocence. “What did I do?”
“ Look, I’ve got to go,” I said looking at my watch, “Dad, I’ll call you when I get home and you can tell me all about it, okay?” I leaned over and kissed his rough cheek. “Talk to you later,” I mouthed at Mum, who nodded and grinned at me.
As I left, I heard my dad saying, “You shouldn’t have done that Margaret. I was telling her.”
Thanks to Charlie Brown, I was seriously late. I sat in the slow snake of cars heading out of town and considered the prospect of dinner. As the minutes ticked by, I decided against attempting to cook and dreamed instead, of the instant gratification of a frozen pizza and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s finest… and never mind the calories.
It was getting dark when I finally put the key in the lock. I could hear the phone ringing in the hallway. I pushed the door open and snatched up the handset.
“Hello?”
“ Hello love.” It was Dad.
“I just walked in the door. Traffic was murder,” I told him, kicking my shoes off, using my toes to search out my slippers.
“That was what I wanted to talk to you about” he said
“Traffic?”
There was a moments silence and then he said “No.”
“ Okay” I said. “Charlie Brown, so go on then.”
“ What?”
“ You were going to tell me about Charlie Brown killing his wife,” I prompted.
“Oh, right. Yes.” I heard him clear his throat. In my mind I could see him tugging at his collar; settling himself. “She shouldn’t have done that you know. She always interrupted. Never let him finish a sentence; never let him tell a story without interrupting all the time. Talk, talk, talk, went on non-stop for over forty years. Well enough was enough. This time she’s gone too far. He didn’t have any choice. None at all.”
“ So Charlie Brown killed his wife for talking too much. That’s a bit harsh eh?”
“ What?”
“ Finish telling the story Dad, I’m getting hungry I’ve had no dinner.”
“ She just wouldn’t shut up. He didn’t mean it. I…” He fell silent.
“Dad? Are you okay? Dad? “I could hear him breathing, but still he didn’t speak.
“ Put Mum on the phone Dad. Let me speak to Mum” I urged, trying to push aside the blanket of fear threatening to suffocate me.
“He didn’t mean to do it,” he repeated, “I told her, but she just wouldn’t shut up.”
The End.
|
Good grief, Charlie Brown!
