© 2024 Puja Goyal
The mom woke up at 5.30am in the morning, hoping for the garbage to be taken on time. She watched her son dangle his legs from his chair and call for some breakfast. She would normally make him something productive for his gut, but today she baked him a cake with his favourite raspberry sauce dripping from the inside.
She reached out at the kitchen curtain, pulled the sheets to the side, and licked the sauce off her finger as the garbage truck pulled out into the street. The consignment that was wrapped in the black bag was ready to be shipped to the recycling facility. Animal waste was treated differently. She watched the guy on the street carry the bundle to the truck and throw it in like waste.
Exhausted with the night’s work and then arriving home and washing her hands off the red, she got to work for her son’s birthday.
“Marion? Put the record on, and schedule a dinner at the Ritz.” she said as she wiped her face with her sleeve. “I’m going to treat myself like a queen tonight.” She was a woman hungry for adventure and some action, and she was alone to always clean up the mess after everyone. She despised it.
In the morning, she would be a good girl, get ready for her ideal husband, and be a mother, a teacher who rescued stray animals in her spare time, sometimes watch Popeye with her kids and laughed, walk the extra mile for her friends, and drown her simple life in dirty dishes.
At night, she would aspire to be the boss bitch and partner with the mafia as a hitman. That Friday, she bumped Tobby with her car, stuffed him in the meat freezer, and then shredded him with a machete before dumping him right in front of her house in the garbage bin, before she baked a cake for her son. She was an excellent chef and a mother.
© 2024 Puja Goyal
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