The giant roars in anger. He picks up the empty cake stand and throws it high in the air. On its return, it misses my baby niece by mere inches. My sister cries out in anguish. I know how she feels, but for another reason. I spent hours baking those cupcakes. It took the giant about three seconds to demolish them.
‘What is it with you people and cupcakes,’ the giant rages. ‘They barely fill the hole in my molar. Bake real cakes next time. Give me something to chew on.’
The giant stomps off, ranting on about proper cakes.
Because today is Halloween, I decided against something spooky. I wrote this a while ago for Flash Frenzy, but I gave it a new title – it’s from Mae Martin’s Birthday Song.
A couple of announcements first: a story I wrote a while ago went up on The Drabble yesterday (if you’ve read my stories for a while, you may remember it), and I’ve picked six stories I think you should read this weekend. Right, on with the story.
U-Turn Down Memory Lane
He catches a glimpse of lemon yellow tail-fins and chrome and thinks of Grandad.
Most of his early memories have a mythical quality – they’ve always been there but he’s never quite certain any of it happened. That time Grandad took him out in his car, though, he remembers every detail of it.
‘I like your finny car.’
‘You have it when I die, then.’
Grandad died one day before his fifth birthday. He was sent to the children’s home and never saw his Caddy again.
How many lemon yellow Cadillacs can there be in this country?
My favourite thing about going to the record store: I never know what treasure I’ll hunt down next.
Today’s no different. Though it’s not rare vinyl that’s tickling my fancy this time. Her immaculate taste in music catches my eye first. I’ve been following her around, pretending to be browsing a few letters down the aisle. She’s wearing a black dress with full circle skirt made of shiny fabric. She looks like a piece of exquisite album art.
I wonder if, when she spins round, her skirt will fan out and make her look like a record on the turntable.