Tag Archives: Family arguments

FF – Teamwork

Thanks to Dale for this week’s photo. I’ve gone for a literal interpretation this time.

Teamwork Makes The Dream Work

We three kings of orient are…”

“Shut up, Dad, your end is dropping!” My brother’s in the middle: convinced he’s the strongest of us. He’s put me at the front, in charge of steering. At the back, Dad provides the ‘motivational soundtrack’.

Bearing tree, we travel so far…”

“Dad! Are you listening? I feel like I’m carrying this whole damn thing!”

“Something mountain, into the fountain…”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it goes.”

“It will if you don’t stop poking me in the eye with the branches. I can’t see where we’re going.”

I wish we’d brought the car!”


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On the 3rd Day of Christmas…

Thank you to John for today’s inspiration, the phrase “Is Christmas a time for families or family arguments?” I’m not sure if this answers your question or not!
If you enjoy this, please consider leaving a suggestion for one of the later days of Christmas in the comments, either here, or on the original “12 Days of Christmas” post from last week. Thanks!
Sally was screaming. I walked into the living room just in time to see her aim a cracker at Kevin’s head. It would have been funny if her face weren’t so murderous.
“She’s barely older than our daughter!” she yelled.
There was no chance of their being disturbed by my entrance, but I hovered in the doorway anyway, not sure whether to beat a retreat into the kitchen or stay and watch. There was something curiously fascinating about watching a marriage disintegrate, even on Christmas Day.
“It was a mistake,” Kevin replied, his usual calm demeanour cracking as he shielded himself from another swing. “I’m sorry. Can we just try to get things ready for when the girls arrive? No point ruining their Christmas too.”
“Oh, sure,” Sally had dropped the cracker now and was reaching towards a dinner plate. Her voice crackled with rage. I finally broke off my attention and stepped backwards, pulling the door closed behind me.
“Dinner’s ready,” said Mum when I reached the kitchen. “Can you call everyone through?”
“I think we need to give them a minute,” I indicated the living room door. “It’s about to get deadly!”
“They can catch the repeat,” Mum replied; she wasn’t having Christmas dinner delayed just for the sake of my brother and his wife’s Coronation Street obsession. “Owen! Turn off that television and come on in to dinner.”


Filed under Writing