Thanksgiving Flash Fiction, With My Girls

Two weeks ago, I posted my first Friday Flash Fiction 55.  Last week, my Oldest Daughter wanted to join in, so I posted hers too. This week, the Oldest and I each have finished one (see below), and the Younger One is working hard on another. This stuff is contagious!

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From the Oldest, "Thanksgiving Lunch".

Slap, a plastic tray hit the table. She looked up from her homemade salad.

          “There’s no gravy,” Fiona frowned. The stuffing looked archaic, the cranberry sauce anemic. 

          “Early Thanksgiving, Doctor?”  She asked.

          “On-call all day tomorrow.”

          “I’m teaching a stroke patient to make pie one-handed this afternoon. Save you a piece?”

          “Sounds good.”

 

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And now mine,  "Thanksgiving".

Twenty six years of holiday dinners. His mother’s voice droned, “What I know is blah, blah, my opinion blah, blah….”  His father expounded scientific theory inaudibly.  His mother proclaimed, “I need more wine,” Both men ignored her. Eleanor upended the bottle over the woman’s head drenching her heavy make-up. Dropping the bottle, she walked out.

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Find links to more  Friday Flash Fiction  here, courtesy of the G-man.