I watched her cross the street with a taupe colored leash entwined in her fingers. Her belly protruding out in front of her as she swayed across the blacktop. She glanced in my direction and smiled a soft little acknowledgement of my presence. Her cheeks were plump and glistening in the sun beams of the late afternoon. The breeze lifted her long scarlet skirt into the air like the kite of a dragon on a summer day. She strolled along the grasses edge while the dog, an incredibly prestigious white poodle, lifted his leg and baptised a fire hydrant with his urine.
As I sat in the crisp white adirondack chair off the path, I thought about what it would truly be like to become a mother. What it’s like to feel the pain of childbirth, yet create a whole new life. Or even watching them grow, observing the ways in which the apple didn’t fall far from the tree, or the opposite, maybe the apple grew legs and ran as far as it could from the tree.
She hobbled slightly farther down the path tugging at the poodle who wouldn’t listen, evident exhaustion. I wondered whether she had picked a name yet, was it a family name or one she just felt right about. She spoke sternly to the poodle who had just left a beautiful steaming pile of feces in the middle of the path. She bent, trash bag in hand, and scraped what she could off of the warm tar. I wanted to offer my help but there wasn’t time to. She’d bagged it and moved on, just like I’d pictured her handling the world’s worst diaper changes in the upcoming months. She was the epitome of motherhood, a warm sunset glow in her cheeks. I stood from my observatory and walked in her direction. The heart’s curiosity often overpowers the mind’s awareness.
“Hello, I was just admiring your lovely dog and wanted to ask if I could pet him.”
“Of course! He’s very friendly, but full of himself so watch out for a rogue tongue to the face.”
He was an obedient dog, and the second I stroked his fuzzy ears he sat submissively and looked up at me. I wondered when he would have a brother or a sister to look at with those eyes, so in depth and endearing.
“If you don’t mind me asking, when are you due?” I politely inquired.
The eternity long silence that followed flipped my stomach inside out.
“Well, no actually,” she remarked in a tone very much unlike the woman I thought she was would have, “I’m not pregnant, just fat.”
Yes, I died a little that day.
This was my humor writing contest piece and I really don’t think I am funny at all, so writing this was pretty difficult. However, this scenario actually happened to my mom and whenever she tells it I die laughing so I thought if I wrote it through my eyes and added some detail, the reader might crack a little smile at least.
I thought this was actually really funny. At first I was confused as to what was happening, but the end was really funny. I can picture your mom doing this and dying of embarrassment. The way you wrote it keeps the reader wondering. I think if you described the woman a little more, showing why your mom thought she was pregnant would give the reader more of an idea.
Avery, the tension you build, the narrator’s kind, thoughtful anticipation on behalf of the future-mother sets up the climax of the story so effectively. Great description, great control. A powerful and funny piece. Well-done!