Creative Writing: The lovely oyster, the Pearl

Saturday morning. We were all getting ready for the big event. My little sister; her hubby, all the kids, who were no longer little (even the “littlest” was 6’5 and 210 lbs.: mostly muscle). My older brother, who was about ¾” inch shorter than myself, was there with his wife and kids. He beat me in one of those lawn games; Sibling rivalry prevailed. Me being the middle kid and bachelor, I just sucked it up. I guessed that if it those little things made him happy, I’d give him the win. It was only a couple of points, anyhow. But, that wasn’t the main event. Well, that wasn’t one of the main events. I didn’t know it, but that day; those hours would possible alter life as we know it. Me being the favorite uncle, a god father of one of the kids and all, I had a lifetime, all-expense paid frequent flyer pass to their home. Now, I didn’t use this pass as much as I could have. After all, you know what they say about 9-day old smelly fish in Denmark (as Shakespeare once said?), or something like that. In short, I wouldn’t want to overstay my welcome. That wouldn’t be very becoming of a favorite uncle. Anyhow, I got in early on Friday afternoon so we could go shopping for all the last minute nic nacs like; smores and double fudge brownie mix, extra ice cream, back up wine and beer, and such. My brother-in-law was pulling out all of the stops on this one. We set up the games and stuff (mostly for the kids) not just my older brother, John. And then my little sister, her hubby and kids and I went out we all went out for a little fun time before the family all arrived on Saturday. Friday was good fun in itself. I, a single guy, probably appreciated it more than most. Friday evening, my brother in-law had set the alarm on the coffee machine for around six a.m. They all slept right through it, as well they should have. Me? I was more like a 52-year-old kid on Christmas. I had gone to bed earlier the evening before, well, maybe not so early. But, I had that “adrenaline rush” coursing through my veins. It was tent time! My sister and hubby had catered some company to put on some clambake, with lobster, and the whole show. They pulled out all the stops, hoping that we would be so sick of lobster that we’d never want to come in contact with a crustacean for the rest of our lives. Well, I caught my other brother pawing over an oyster on ice that wormed its way past the “authorities.” I wondered what kind of shelf life or rather shell life (bad excuse the bad) those oysters might have. I guess he would find out. In fact, we would all learn pretty quickly. Early Saturday morning; though, I poured myself a cup of coffee with a little milk and went out on the misty porch. I practically felt like an intruder. The lawn furniture and the plants, too, of course, were just talking about all sorts of things. It wasn’t the rip roaring conversation one might expect, but it wasn’t mindless chatter, either. The chairs, they continued their conversation about how the day might progress and how kids would no doubt be using them as trampolines. The lawn and chair set wasn’t old by any standard but…but “These were the days that tried mens souls,” and lawn chairs rungs. I had positioned myself, rather snugly, I might add, on one of the deep chairs and settled in with my coffee, sunglasses, and the hopes and dreams of getting another cup. I love coffee on a nice summer morning. Before long, the pets came rushing down the stairs wishing for a little breakfast, anything. I knew that they were all on special diets and medications, so I didn’t want to go there. I did, however, think that I could give them a dog biscuit without the earth shattering. I gave them each a little treat. Somehow, that seemed to suffice for a few minutes. That was what I was aiming for. All I needed was for an entire Ark to descend on me, begging for food that I did not have permission to dole out (except to Buddy, the oldest of the crew). Buddy was my best friend and probably didn’t have more than a couple of months left in him. The pets, they all came rushing out onto the porch, but Bud. He sort of grumbled, as did one of the older chairs. The “kids” all sort of deferred to the elders and Bud slowly climbed up, grumbling, a low grumble. They were the only ones that said anything that made any real sense—their low grumble but their withered faces said it all. “Don’t screw with me, you will rue the day!” I knew where Sue kept the biscuit Stash, the treats. The treats for Bud. My second cup. It took all the way until my second cup! Even the pets knew there was something going down. They had used this opportunity. The pets kind of took advantage of my “coffee haze” to put in their sense and tell me a little about the informed plight of animal behavior. Now, it was only in the space of a couple of half hours? The dogs, they spoke up; the cat purred; the furniture, it spoke up. Why, even the outdoor table agreed with the furniture on something or another. I felt small, belittled. I just sat there in my shades and wondered; I wondered how the hell I managed to get where I am. I knew that either Sue or Ted would come out and rescue me from this insanity. Maybe, I had accidentally met with an oyster that planned on robbing me of my senses. Not real good. However, it was better that it should happen now, rather than in the middle of a 10 course meal…that would be…uh…5? And it would also be on top of a few beers, clams a single oyster, and lobsters. No, not good at all. The accidental oyster. It was a lovely, a great feast. It was a feast to be remembered.




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