Fuck off! I’m not going to Gran’s for Christmas again. It’s boring. She makes us play stupid games. Ludo, snakes and ladders for fuck’s sake. Like we’re little kids. I’m fifteen. I’m too old for that. You can’t make me.
Her dinner’s shit. She can’t cook. No, she can’t. And those stupid hats she makes us wear.
It’s always the same. You and Uncle John get pissed and have a fight. Yes, you will; you always do. And what about that creepy guy who was slobbering over Gran all last Christmas. She says she’s in love. That’s disgusting.
Last time she gave me mittens. I don’t give a fuck if she did knit them herself. What is wrong with her? Does she still think I’m a baby? She’s gone senile.
Why make me babysit while you lot go out to the pub? It’s not fair. I want to go to out with my mates. My girlfriend says I can go to hers for dinner.
Gran makes us watch Morecambe and Wise. They. Are. Not. Funny. Whoever said they were? Even you don’t like them. No, you don’t. Don’t lie to me.
I don’t care if she is getting old. She should just curl up and die and do us all a favour. Then you can get her money and we can move out of this shithole.
What are you doing with that belt? No, you can’t do that. I’m too old for this. Fuck off. No, stop it. Don’t. No!!!!
Words: Richard Rooney
Illustration: A.I.
Flash Fiction 250
Flash Fiction 250 