On the first Friday of every month, the Australian Writers Centre reveals a new set of story prompts. Writers have 55 hours to submit their best 500-word (or fewer) story.
I don’t know why I was surprised when the ambitious, stilettoed young women in my year morphed into domestic goddesses. Twenty years on, the prefects (forever prefects), set out to plan The Best Reunion Ever. And it was. Funny slideshows of bad hairdos and hilarious fashion choices, and the Best Playlist Ever. I should have quit while I was ahead, but before I knew it, I was going on picnics, Wiggles concerts and weekends away with my ‘old group from school.’ When the email came for the next get-together, Josh was certain that my outings with the girls were over. “I know it’s not my thing, but I’ll behave myself, I promise.’ Josh’s laughter turned to concern, but he looked at me intently, and nodded. He trusted me. ….. Gales of laughter, clinking glasses and the familiarity of old friends should have put me at ease, but I was as nervous as a kitten. When I arrived, Kate was instructing everyone to get comfy. I squeezed in beside Lynda, who whispered conspiratorially, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this all week.” It was time. I looked up and shuddered. Oh dear Lord, why had I come? At least fifteen women were preventing a surreptitious escape. The table was a tower of Tupperware of all shapes, sizes, colours and designs. At least the food was good, and there was enough of it to feed a small nation. The most exquisite dip was being passed around in the ‘essential’ Serving Centre, while Sandy proclaimed that no house would be complete without the expandable Cake Taker or the Easy Mix & Pour. Ming’s mum leant in and gave me a complete inventory of Tupperware items in her cupboard, recommending nearly every product. (Was she on commission?) Lynda madly circled items in the catalogue. Jacqui announced she would buy the whole set of the new Rainbow Range for her brother who’d recently come out. Ali was almost in tears at the prospect of buying a Shape-O for Baby Orlando. When Sandy spouted the spiel about the world-famous Tupperware guarantee, I bravely piped up. “Actually, I brought a lid that might need replacing. The button for the vent thing isn’t working.” For the first time all evening, the room went quiet. Sandy was genuinely stunned, but recovered quickly. ‘VentSmart or Heat’n’Eat?’ I lifted the round, cornflower blue lid with the wonky yellow button in the air. “A gift from my grandmother.” Ming’s mum put her hand on her heart. “Do you have the entire set?” “God, no! I Kon-Maried the lot of it. I’m a minimalist.” The air was thick with horror. What had I done?? “I thanked each item for its service,” I said, weakly. …. Josh, in his blind, trusting goodness, had gone to bed. I took the invitation out of my handbag. A Tupperware Party. In three weeks. At my house, with only one sofa, one armchair and one Tupperware item. Penance for flipping my lid.
0 Comments
On the first Friday of every month, the Australian Writers Centre reveals a new set of story prompts. Writers have 55 hours to submit their best 500-word (or fewer) story.
July 2019: Karen was a little bit fragile when she boarded the train early Monday. The twins had been vomiting for the past 6 hours, she’d forgotten to charge her laptop overnight, and it was the day of her performance review. At least hubby-of-the-year was taking carer’s leave. Thankfully, she was on the quiet carriage. She popped in her headphones and opened her mindfulness app. “Good morning, passengers. This is a Wyong to Central service. Next stop Wondabyne. Please note the first and last carriages are Quiet Carriages” “Bugger,” thought Karen. “Couldn’t hear the meditation over the announcement. Will start again.” A few more people joined the train at the next stop. A lady, who had obviously remembered to charge her laptop overnight, began aggressively typing. Karen concentrated on meditating, and desperately tried to block any thoughts of hurling the woman’s laptop out the door at the next station. Another intrusive guard’s announcement accompanied by unnecessarily loud chimes, and more passengers. A youth (or hoodlum, as her mother might have called him) plonked down, slurping a drink from McDonalds. Karen attempted composure, while the clinking ice-cubes created the same effect as fingers down a chalkboard. He was clearly not listening to a mindfulness app. A tinny doof-doof sound came from his headphones. Karen tried giving him a dirty look but he wasn’t making eye contact with anyone. More announcements. More train stops. More passengers. Karen was determined to meditate. She briefly considered googling ‘how to disable PA systems from trains’, but was disturbed from her reverie by another noise. The man two rows in front had started snoring. Loudly. And yet, those around were suddenly deaf. Isn’t this a Quiet Carriage? Can’t someone just prod him, for goodness’ sake?? Or is this a Polite Carriage which is a-bit-on-the-quiet-side? More announcements. More train stops. More passengers. Karen thought the entire suburb of Artarmon should be quarantined. A flu epidemic just boarded the train. Coughs. Sneezes. Sniffs. Snorts. Performance review anxiety was giving her butterflies, so she ditched the idea of guided mindful meditation, and instead repeated the mantra in her head, “I’ve got this. I’ve got this. I’ve got this.” In fact, what she had was a bad pain in her tummy. Definitely not butterflies. A new mantra was forming. “I’ve got the tummy bug! I’ve got the tummy bug!” North Sydney. Thank God! Karen fumbled for her Opal card and stood up. (She regretted not getting off at Waverton…) Too late. She began hurling. The aggressive typist copped it first. A brief apology while running down the aisle, where the hoodlum and the snorer each received Karen’s unique form of retribution. By the time the doors opened, she felt better. (After all, better out than in.) Naturally, the carriage was in an uproar. Even the snorer was wide awake and shouting. Before stepping off the train, Karen glanced over her shoulder, and in her best librarian voice scolded them all. “Ssshhhhh! This is a Quiet Carriage.” |
Furious FictionGrateful to the Australian Writers Centre for sparking creativity each month with the Furious Fiction competition. Archives
August 2021
|