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3.)
Freedy dove back into his mid morning repast. Sausages and eggs and taters. Strawberries drenched in cream, pancakes and syrup, and blueberry muffins.
He propped his big hairy feet on the table and burped.
His feet hurt. Shoes never fit him -- all the Filkins owned overlarge feet and hairy to boot. Around the house he always went barefoot. He'd tried buying shoes locally, online and even custom made. They all hurt, none of them fit.
That's why he was a homebody. Not because he was lazy. His feet hurt. His father and mother before him had also been the type to hide behind the curtains and play and sleep and otherwise goof off . Big feet and soft carpets, that was the only answer. Only Aunt Tessie had ever been anywhere and she'd come back and tried to tell them an obvious whopper of a tale that absolutely no one believed. Hussy was the word Freedy had heard his mother whisper.
Freedy sorta kinda missed Aunt Tessie and her purple hats and gypsy scarves.
He reached up and rubbed his feet. Maybe he'd skip raking leaves today, call old Stu up from from the base of the hill and give him a smidgen of the next batch of brew if he'd go fetch the yeast.
Yeah, He'd stay and let his feet recover from all the unexpected door answering. Besides, lunch was coming up.
1 comment:
[That's why he was a homebody. Not because he was lazy. His feet hurt. His father and mother before him had also been the stay at home types. Big feet and soft carpets, that was the only answer. Only Aunt Tessie had ever been everywhere and she'd come back and tried to tell them some obvious whopper of a tale and absolutely no one had believed her.
...
Yeah, He'd stay and let his feet recover from all the unexpected door answering. Besides, lunch was coming up.] :)
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