Read Online The Big Bang! Theory - A fourth--and final--short, erotic encounter of the Judy Banger kind by Debra Salonen - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Debra Salonen
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itty-bitty
toilet area a room--a two-room apartment with practically none of my
things. Look at this ridiculous excuse for a kitchen."
Judy had heard similar
complaints from new residents over the years. She blamed their
negativity on fear of change--a universal human condition. Seeing
her mother react so typically surprised Judy. She automatically
delivered her canned spiel, as she would have with a stranger.
"Have you seen the Heritage House resident's kitchen, Mom? It's a
gorgeous, full galley just down the hall. All the pots and pans
you'd ever want. You can bake, steam, broil, grill...anything but
flambé. Open flames are highly discouraged."
Mom blinked her watery gray
eyes. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Judy
honestly couldn't remember seeing her mother speechless. She
quickly turned to Nancy, who'd continued unpacking dishware as if
someone had a cattle prod up her butt. The sour expression on her
face spoke volumes.
"Hi, Nanc. Sorry I couldn't
get here sooner. I had my first job interview via Skype this
morning. I kinda like the high-tech approach--saves time and money.
And you only have to look nice from the chest up," she
joked.
Not a flicker of a
smile.
"Where do you need me to
start?"
Nancy, a taller, thinner
version of Mom, shrugged. "Maybe you can get her to hang pictures.
Mom's terrified of putting nails in the wall. She wants Pete to go
to the store and buy some of those stick-up thingies." Nancy
returned to her job but not before rolling her eyes. Judy swore she
could see smoke coming out of her sister's ears.
"Mom," Judy said, grabbing
a hammer from the table, "residents are encouraged to pound as many
nails on they like. Heritage House wants you to make the place feel
like home. When you leave, they hire professional painters to putty
and paint. It's factored into the non-refundable part of your
cleaning deposit." She picked up the box of brads and looked
around. "Where should we start?"
Mom glanced from Nancy to
Judy and back. She must have been confused by the paradigm shift.
Usually, Nancy spoke with the voice of authority--even on subjects
she knew nothing about. "Are you sure?"
"Sending Pete to the store
would waste a lot more money than filling in a couple of holes.
Let's hang your watercolors first." A few years back, Mom had
gotten a wild hair to explore her artistic side. She'd taken
classes at a junior college. Most of her completed pieces wound up
as gifts to family members. Judy's still-life hung in the spare
bedroom/slash junk room. No one ever complimented her on
it.
By biting her tongue--a
common method of sublimation around her mother, Judy managed to
hang four paintings, but the dozen or so framed photos of family
members remained a source of contention. "Only the girls. Forget
the rest," Mom said.
"What about your wedding
photo?" She held out the old-fashioned frame bearing the sepia
image of two young strangers. Had her parents once been happy and
in love?
Mom shook her
head.
"You want to hang the group
shot we took last Christmas, don't you? Remember what a
headache...um...challenge we had getting everyone together? But it
turned out nice." And cost so much I
couldn't afford to order a copy. "You said
you love it."
"Loved," she stressed
sourly. "I don't want to be reminded of someone's
imperfunity."
"Imper...what?" Judy looked
at Nancy.
"She means perfidy. She
spent one whole day with a thesaurus looking up words for betrayal,
which is what she thinks I've done to her."
"You have," Mom snapped.
"You sold me down the river. Lucky I have a second daughter to look
after me."
"She's welcome to you,"
Nancy muttered under her breath.
She stretched to place a
soup bowl on the shelf, but the dish slipped from Nancy's trembling
fingers to tumble into the sink with a sickening crash.
"You broke that on
purpose," Mom shouted. "Now, I don't have a full set. You ruined
it. You ruin everything."
Judy could see her sister
fighting to keep from breaking into
toilet area a room--a two-room apartment with practically none of my
things. Look at this ridiculous excuse for a kitchen."
Judy had heard similar
complaints from new residents over the years. She blamed their
negativity on fear of change--a universal human condition. Seeing
her mother react so typically surprised Judy. She automatically
delivered her canned spiel, as she would have with a stranger.
"Have you seen the Heritage House resident's kitchen, Mom? It's a
gorgeous, full galley just down the hall. All the pots and pans
you'd ever want. You can bake, steam, broil, grill...anything but
flambé. Open flames are highly discouraged."
Mom blinked her watery gray
eyes. Her mouth opened and closed but no words came out. Judy
honestly couldn't remember seeing her mother speechless. She
quickly turned to Nancy, who'd continued unpacking dishware as if
someone had a cattle prod up her butt. The sour expression on her
face spoke volumes.
"Hi, Nanc. Sorry I couldn't
get here sooner. I had my first job interview via Skype this
morning. I kinda like the high-tech approach--saves time and money.
And you only have to look nice from the chest up," she
joked.
Not a flicker of a
smile.
"Where do you need me to
start?"
Nancy, a taller, thinner
version of Mom, shrugged. "Maybe you can get her to hang pictures.
Mom's terrified of putting nails in the wall. She wants Pete to go
to the store and buy some of those stick-up thingies." Nancy
returned to her job but not before rolling her eyes. Judy swore she
could see smoke coming out of her sister's ears.
"Mom," Judy said, grabbing
a hammer from the table, "residents are encouraged to pound as many
nails on they like. Heritage House wants you to make the place feel
like home. When you leave, they hire professional painters to putty
and paint. It's factored into the non-refundable part of your
cleaning deposit." She picked up the box of brads and looked
around. "Where should we start?"
Mom glanced from Nancy to
Judy and back. She must have been confused by the paradigm shift.
Usually, Nancy spoke with the voice of authority--even on subjects
she knew nothing about. "Are you sure?"
"Sending Pete to the store
would waste a lot more money than filling in a couple of holes.
Let's hang your watercolors first." A few years back, Mom had
gotten a wild hair to explore her artistic side. She'd taken
classes at a junior college. Most of her completed pieces wound up
as gifts to family members. Judy's still-life hung in the spare
bedroom/slash junk room. No one ever complimented her on
it.
By biting her tongue--a
common method of sublimation around her mother, Judy managed to
hang four paintings, but the dozen or so framed photos of family
members remained a source of contention. "Only the girls. Forget
the rest," Mom said.
"What about your wedding
photo?" She held out the old-fashioned frame bearing the sepia
image of two young strangers. Had her parents once been happy and
in love?
Mom shook her
head.
"You want to hang the group
shot we took last Christmas, don't you? Remember what a
headache...um...challenge we had getting everyone together? But it
turned out nice." And cost so much I
couldn't afford to order a copy. "You said
you love it."
"Loved," she stressed
sourly. "I don't want to be reminded of someone's
imperfunity."
"Imper...what?" Judy looked
at Nancy.
"She means perfidy. She
spent one whole day with a thesaurus looking up words for betrayal,
which is what she thinks I've done to her."
"You have," Mom snapped.
"You sold me down the river. Lucky I have a second daughter to look
after me."
"She's welcome to you,"
Nancy muttered under her breath.
She stretched to place a
soup bowl on the shelf, but the dish slipped from Nancy's trembling
fingers to tumble into the sink with a sickening crash.
"You broke that on
purpose," Mom shouted. "Now, I don't have a full set. You ruined
it. You ruin everything."
Judy could see her sister
fighting to keep from breaking into
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