Furious Fiction December 2021

Each story had to include a tree.

Each story had to include something being taped.

Each story had to include the words DANCE, SEARCH and CHANGE.

I’d never seen our house on a Sunday morning.

We were always gone by 7:30am. But today I woke up with itchy red dots on my belly and dad said it’s contagious.

I sat at the table and wrote out my sister’s birthday card. I taped it to the dirty plastic pot that held a bottlebrush tree. I’d grown it from a cutting.

It wasn’t what I’d hoped to give my sister Bernadette for her 21st. I’d wanted to pick something from the shop, or as dad called it, the Temple of Materialistic Worship. 

I walked down the hallway and searched through Joshua’s room for the dinosaur book. I often changed its hiding spot.

Joshua wasn’t coming back. Not after the last argy-bargy with mum. He was as good as extinct.

I pulled the book from a sock drawer and dragged my fingertips across the glossy pages.

A triceratops tipped its horns at me. ‘You know I never existed, right?’ it said in between mouthfuls of foliage. ‘You’ve had the teachings. You know the truth.’

Bang bang bang. Someone was at the door. I shoved the book back into the drawer, tip toed down the hallway and looked out the peephole.

‘Delivery!’ said a man in a navy-blue shirt and pants. His skin matched the massive cardboard box he was holding.

‘Who for?’ I asked through the slither of sunlight between the door and the doorframe.

‘Bernadette.’

Oh dear. She’d gone with mum and dad. No birthday sleep-in for her. Especially when she broke curfew last night. Mum blamed Bernadette’s new friend, Diana. 

I opened the wooden door and stepped back. ‘I can take it for her.’

 The postman shook his head. ‘It’s for Bernadette.’

 He was doing that thing dad did. Not seeing me. Just telling me no. 

I forced my shoulders back. ‘I’ll pass it onto her.’

‘No, it must be given to Bernadette.’ His biceps bulged against the weight of the box. ‘Is she here?’

I imagined telling my sister a package came for her birthday, then went. All she’d have left was my tree.

‘I’m her sister. Give it to me.’ My voice grew louder.

‘No way.’ His eyes danced back and forth.

Was he laughing at me 

I stiffened. ‘My sister will be very, very furious if you don’t give it to me. She won’t be home for ages. So pass it over.’

The man looked at me. Shrugged. Lowered the box and pulled out what looked like dad’s radio but way bigger. He pressed a button and heavy bass blasted across the threshold into our noiseless house.

‘This is from Diana,’ he yelled over the noise, his hips thrusting back and forth. ‘Happy Birthday to Bernadette.’

He winked and grabbed at the material on his pants. He ripped off his entire uniform in one move to reveal gold sequinned underpants. He ran his thumb along the waistband. ‘The birthday package has arrived.’

I gulped.

God bless Chicken Pox.