Tuesday Tales: From the Word PICNIC

Welcome to the last post for the month of May. How time flies! This weeks word prompt is PICNIC. In the past we often at picnics at this time of year. Not sure when those activities will happen again. I’m continuing with Make Mine a Manhattan

“Good Lord, don’t tell me you’re watching porn or chatting with some stranger who could well be a serial killer.”

“Mother! I don’t know where you get your ideas, but no!”

I shook my head, rolled my eyes, and reached for my cappuccino. And here I thought I was the one with the wild imagination. It was perfectly acceptable to send me on a blind date with a stranger who had money and might invest it in the town, but if I were to meet anyone online, he would be the next Jeffrey Dahmer.

“Forget it. You wouldn’t understand. You never have.” I stepped back. “I have to get home and feed Shakespeare.”

My mother turned and glared at me.

“You treat that cat better than you treat the members of your own family. Fine. I’ll call Franklin and make some excuse, but you’ll regret not helping out when the town needed you. If Stargazer Enterprise does reopen the mountain, having a close personal relationship with the CEO would be quite advantageous.”

Would she never give up? On the defensive now, I harrumphed.

“Since when does a blind date barbecue picnic I have no intention of attending morph into a close personal relationship? Forget it, Mom. I’m not the sacrificial virgin ready to be tossed into the volcano to save the town. Unless you agree not to harp on this again, I’m not coming back for lunch with Callie and Mickey.”

The bell rang announcing the arrival of another customer.

Thank you, Lord.

“Fine,” Mom agreed, but her tone made it clear she wasn’t happy about it. “Maybe he doesn’t need a date per se. There will be plenty of single women there. I’ll see you at one thirty sharp.”

She frowned, her mask moving up her face almost obliterating her eyes.

I sighed, knowing full well that this wouldn’t be the end of it, but if I didn’t make lunch, I wouldn’t survive the lecture that was sure to follow.

“I’ll be here.”

Turning abruptly, I collided with the mountain behind me, splashing my iced capp all over both of us, the beige froth settling and melting on top of his loafers.

A collective gasp filled the room, and I was suddenly aware of the dozens of gazes fixed on me. There was Frank, the town mechanic and Sylvia who ran the dry cleaners. Was that Mayor Loucks?

Stay safe and don’t forget to check out the other Tuesday Tales