homewrecker

I am hoovering. When something happens. Something unexpected. The hoover has broken. The nozzle has randomly fallen apart.In my hands. Which is typical. I decide to stop hoovering. And cook some breakfast. It’s a weekend, and therefore I have time to do a serious breakfast. I can put effort in. Flex my food finger-muscles. I can look at the jars of tarragon and cumin.

And tell them to GET LOST.

I reach into the freezer. And pull out some potato waffles.

And smile, accidentally saying ‘yum’ as the oven door closes. This is where good things happen. I know it well. I’ve literally done this some times before. And am a master. An oven is like a womb. And I’m a midwife. I prepare to give the food-terus my orders, and bend down using the correct technique. I get it wrong, and fall slightly backwards, so grab the temperature dial. When something happens. Something unexpected.

I watch as the dial slides away… suddenly and explicably broken!

I sigh, and look forward to having a food baby.

“Yes please, mate!

I look left, and see housemate Jackson Five gnashing his teeth at me and pointing at most of the things in the room. He’s clocked me on the floor, and probably has questions.

“You’re a midwife.”

I smile.

He smiles.

“Yup.”

He may not have any questions.

“What happened to the hoover?”

Oh.

“Oh. I… erm… broke it.”

“How?”

“Well. It fell apart in my hands.”

“Oh. Hang on, is the cooker broken as well?”

“Erm… yeah.”

“How?”

“Well. It fell apart in my hands.”

“Oh.”

I decide to temper the situation with some timely good news.

“But don’t worry.”

Jackson looks at me inquisitively. I should probably say some more news.

“I’ve broken worse things before!”

I smile. The saviour of the conversation.

Jackson smiles.

“Really? Like what?”

I think. And remember something.

“Erm… well, the one time I accidentally broke a family.”

Jackson splutters, and stops pointing at things.

“What?”

“I used to do youth work when I was 17, and this kid challenged me to a game of slaps.”

“So you destroyed his family?

“I didn’t destroy his family!…”

“…In a way.”

Jackson stares at me. I decide to level up the words.

“Well this other kid went to slap me from the side….”

“Right.”

“And I wasn’t expecting it…”

“Right.”

“So I accidentally lashed out to the side as a reflex when I saw something coming in the corner of my eye.”

“Right.”

“And he had to go and get his eye checked out at the hospital.”

“Right.”

“And the stress got too much…”

“Right.”

“And his mom cracked and admitted having an affair.”

Silence.

I decide I probably shouldn’t say any more words.

“Yeah… carry on, Dan.”

Oh.

“So yeah. Next time I saw him his parents were divorced.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.

I look at the kettle, and smile.

“Yes please, mate!

Jackson sighs and makes a couple of shockingly nice Asda instant hot chocolates as I have a sit down on my nice leather armchair.

When something happens. Something unexpected.

The chair gives way. And I find a broken chair leg.


“Oh no!”

Jackson looks at me.

“What?”

“I’ve broken the chair! ….Somehow!”

Jackson smiles at me.

“Nah, that was Deekstopher. He did it the other day.”

“Oh.”

I sip my drink. And slide to the floor. And sigh.

“Deekstopher.”

Jackson smiles.

“That homewrecker.”

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