After The Big Sleep: A Parenting Noir

I like to occasionally put up a lighthearted ‘noir’ inspired parenting short story- here’s a bit of flash fiction ... 

After The Big Sleep:

A Parenting Noir

The clock said that it wasn’t quite 8am. The atmosphere was already hostile. The temperature had been dropping rapidly. The three of us sat there in a rare moment of silence, the toast and porridge cooling on the table. Rain beat noisily against the window. 

“I don’t like butter,” announced the six year old gruffly. 

I didn’t react right away, composing myself. 

“You liked it okay yesterday,” I replied evenly. 

I picked up my coffee, drinking deeply, keeping my eyes set ahead. She was agitated. Her face contorted as if she was being forced to eat glass. 

“Meow!” Screeched the cat from beside the table, demanding his own breakfast.

“This is yucky,” broke in the three year old, spitting and spraying her porridge out all over the table. 

I set my mug down, my hand beginning to shake, my fingers turning white as they gripped the handle. 

“Don’t do that. Both of you- your breakfasts are not yucky, eat up,” I said, still in control except for a slight quiver in my voice. 

“Meow!” Screamed the cat again. 

“You’re a stinky old hag,” quipped the three year old with gusto, eyeballing me. I cursed reading them so much Roald Dahl.

“Can I have some sweets?” Tried the six year old. 

The cat made a wheezing noise before throwing up in the middle of the rug. Not on any of the wooden floors of course, just on the thick, shaggy rug. 

My face felt red and my temper hotter. We should have already been out on the school run. We were never getting this wretched breakfast finished! The heavy rain continued to pound against the glass- we would all be soaked through if we eventually made it out of the house. 

I should have stayed in bed, pulled up the covers and pretended that I was young and childless. 

I jumped up, knocking my mug and the remnants of the coffee across the tablecloth. 

“Look what you made me do!” I cried, “Hurry up- for goodness sake- eat up your breakfasts!” 

The previously defiant children both looked at me aghast and simultaneously burst into tears.

The cat threw up again. 

As I surveyed my coffee dripping off the end of the table and onto the floor, I looked beyond it to find my wife standing in the doorway. The look she gave could only be described as withering. 

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