Warning, this is not: A) a movie B) a cat video C) porn

You’ve got two good things going for you when you wake up in the early morning: one, nothing bad has happened yet; two, probably you woke up with a boner (for those of you in lack of a penis probably it’s less likely you woke up with a boner [unless you woke up next to one is which case you’ll likely get dry humped until he wakes up] but I promise this story will become more relatable either way). For Kennedy Stinstford, neither (nor any other) of these good things were going for him because Kennedy Stinstford was dangling his legs off the side of the tallest house in Nantucket (which, granted, wasn’t all that tall at all but from up there it looked quite tall). Kennedy was swinging his legs in a manner that wasn’t for enjoyment but more as if he were hoping gravity would swallow him up and would pull the ground up to his nose real quick. He hoped this because for the last two years, Kennedy had tried everything his friends and family and therapist had told him to do but not one of those things had given him the feeling of Tuesday brunches. You know the kind – with French toast and orange juice that had absolutely zero pulp. God Kennedy hated pulp. Kennedy had tried everything to feel like Tuesday brunch, even acupuncture, so before you go suggesting it, Kennedy would say, no, no, I’ve already tried acupuncture. Because nothing could give him that feeling, Kennedy thought maybe it was better to have zero feelings at all (although he never told him, Kennedy always thought his therapist would say that this was not as smart of an idea as Kennedy had thought it to be). So anyway, Kennedy was dangling his feet and the sun was as orange as juice and suddenly a girl came and sat next to him.

“Ken, baby.” She said. She sounded so damn sad, I tell you, you would’ve thought she was there to jump too.

Kennedy didn’t really know what to say, but he shook a lot. He felt like he was shaking enough so maybe he didn’t have to say anything. He thought he probably looked like an alarm clock but with no sound and that’s when he thought, god, I wonder if anybody ever made an alarm clock that doesn’t make sound and how stupid would that be?

“Come down, Ken.” The lady said.

It would just be ringing there in the early morning without a peep and whomever set it would just be sleeping right on through and would be late for his morning suit and tie meeting. Oh, man, would he be angry then. He’d wake up and yell at his wife and call her a stupid bumblebee for buying that stupid alarm clock.

“Ken, say something.”

And then he would grab her by that pink apron of hers and he’d bump her into the kitchen cabinets and he’d tell his son to leave now and then he’d spank her against her face. All because of that stupid silent alarm clock.

“Kennedy, please.”

Ken looked at his auntie’s sad face and wondered if she’d ever known a silent alarm clock.

“Let’s get brunch, Ken.” She said. Little did Ken realize how scared Linda was (Linda was his auntie) but she had always been afraid of heights (this is the part where if you are afraid of heights perhaps you might relate to this story [if not I suppose maybe this wasn’t the story for you but you’re so close to the end now]).

Ken shook a lot and for a brief moment he thought the gravity might finally come for him but then he stood up with Linda and they went and walked downstairs and Linda had set up brunch for him in the living room (Brunch at six in the morning!? These are the lawless type of folk you find in Nantucket) and Kennedy sat down. Linda poured him a glass of orange juice and it was full of pulp and Kennedy drank it.

Prompt: TEMPTATION

GZK

Posted in FictionTagged abuse, aunt, brunch, child, divorce, experimental fiction, writing