Hi all, I’m back (one day late, sorry!) with a brand new piece of flash fiction for you. Enjoy!
Anything could happen. That was the fun. Alex put the itching powder into the spice rack. Maybe people would make funny faces as their mouths itched, maybe they wouldn’t notice. Or maybe it would taste great, and he could go on TV! One of those cooking shows that his mother liked.
The butterflies in his stomach, which had been fluttering all day, panicked as they sat down to dinner. He’d been in and out of the kitchen “getting underfoot” as mother called it, to see what she’d put the itching powder into, and it only occurred to him now, that if “anything” could happen, something bad might happen. His teachers often pointed that out on his report cards. “Needs to concentrate more,” “unable to think of the consequences of his actions,” “… lucky things didn’t turn out a lot worse.”
What if someone got sick? What if they got hurt? (These were two distinct things.)
It was bell peppers stuffed with minced meat, beans and feta cheese. And plenty of chili. They all liked spicy food, and the itching powder looked like chili flakes. So that’s where he’d dumped it all. And it was only now that he realised that he’d be eating it too. “Unable to think of the consequences of his actions.” Now he knew what that meant!
“I don’t feel well,” he said. It was a shame. If he got sent to his room, he’d miss all the fun.
“Well, eat half and you can be excused,” said his mum.
“I feel bad.” Was that his imagination, or could he smell the bitter itching powder mingled with roasted paprika and gravy? He pushed the red (potential) bomb around on his plate. His mom sighed. She didn’t want to say anything. The psychologist had suggested that he acted up to justify the bad reputation, a perfectly natural defence mechanism which he would grow out of. But still…
“Alex, did you…?”
He pinched his lips together and his cheeks flushed.
#
The itching powder didn’t work, maybe the cheese had gummed up the hairs (the powder looked like the seeds of rosehips). But she had blamed him. For nothing!
One day he’d be on TV. Maybe not a cooking show, but for something. She’d be sorry then. He jabbed at the bell pepper again, so hard that the plate cracked.
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Die Geschichte endet mit einem grossen Fragezeichen,dass wiederum die eigenen Gedanken stimuliert.
Wie mag wohl der Sünder seinen eigenen Spass erlebt haben an sich selbst?
Spucken oder rundum innerlich jucken.
Welch eine irre Idee.
Wunderbar!