During yesterday’s bedtime round of the grocery store game, my husband gave me the writing prompt for today. Die-hard fans of The Office will recognize the order of the words, and probably chant them in their head, or maybe that’s just me. So enjoy this weird take on three words.
May 3, 2013
Prompts: beets, bears, Battlestar Galactica
Word Count: 608
Garden of Goodies
Abel’s wife ambled up to him, eyes casting around nervously, voice full of tension as she asked, “What are they doing?”
“The male is watching Battlestar Galactica re-runs. Again,” said Abel. “His mate isn’t around.”
“She’s probably off doing something stupid to her hair,” said his wife. “It looks ridiculous most of the time.”
“Well, wherever she is, she isn’t here, so let’s get to it, Clare Bear.”
“Don’t call me that! You know how much I hate my name!”
Abel grinned, showing rows of sharp teeth. “I think it’s adorable.”
“You think opossums are adorable,” snorted Clare. She walked away from him, backside swinging widely. “My parents spent too much time inside away from nature. My father came up with this name. My mother thought it was the prettiest name she had ever heard.”
Abel mouthed the words while he followed her away from the cabin and into the garden. He knew the speech by heart.
“… and then you came up with the nickname Clare Bear. Ugh!” She stopped, angling her head back to glare at him from small, beady eyes. “Start digging, Abel, and stop staring at my hindquarters.”
“I like your hindquarters,” he said. A quick sidestep and he dodged the swat aimed for his head.
They began digging in the garden. The couple inside the cabin grew all their vegetables, and Clare and Abel had discovered it by accident a couple of years back. After the first time they stole some food, they were hooked. No one liked seeing them on the property, and once the woman who owned the cabin shot a gun at them. But, it hardly swayed their decision to come each year, after the vegetables were planted, and take what they wished. Clare and Abel never took more than they could eat, which they felt was fair, and some of the plants they never touched. Tomatoes and carrots, for example. Other things, they ate nearly all that there was, like okra. Oh, the okra. Abel had dreams about it all summer.
Clare loved the beets. All of it. From the leafy green tops with the red veins, to the long, purple-red stalks, to the deep colored bulb, she could not get enough of them. The people in the cabin had a knack for growing certain foods, and beets were one of them.
While Clare nosed through the remnants of the lettuce beds, Abel dug at the soil, unearthing a cluster of beets. He gently bit the stalks, and rising on his back legs, pulled the root vegetable from the ground. Bits of soil landed on his chest. He shook his head from side to side.
“Hey, hey, Clare—look. Look. I’ve got beets,” said Abel, wiggling back and forth, and moving his front limbs from side-to-side.
Clare gave him a long stare. “Shut up.”
Jonathan glanced up at his wife’s indignant yell. “What’s wrong?”
“Those freaking bears! I swear it is the same ones.” Jenny poked her finger at the glass. “Orange tags through their ears. Those are the ones the ranger scared off last year, and the year before.”
“Come on,” said Jonathan. He paused the Battlestar Galactica re-run and got up from the couch. “It can’t be the exact same bears.”
“I’m telling you it is.”
Frustration turned his wife’s cheeks a bright pink. Jonathan reached over and lovingly squeezed her shoulder. He opened his mouth, but words failed him when he saw one of the huge brown bears rise up on two legs.
He nudged Jenny with his elbow, wide grin on his face. “Heh-heh. Look, hon. That bear’s got beets.”