Run, Hamster, Run! - 3. 183 ; Object found in the trash

Prompt book: Write the story

Prompt page: 183 ; Object found in the trash

Words to include:

Cobbler, Umber, Haunt, Grumble, Raincoat, Unleavened, Bravery, Ray, Toffee, Imaginary

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“LEVI!” a female voice rang across the farm, and my head popped up only to hit the boards of the fence I was leaning through. Rubbing the back of my head as I grumble under my breath at my own carelessness, I look around for the voice.

“Yes Momma?” I called out, hoping she would start talking so that I could locate her on the farm. With the way her voice carried, I knew she could be anywhere.

“Don’t you ‘yes momma’ me, boy! How many times have I told you don’t spend too much time outside on a day like this. Finish off your chores and get your wet ass back in this house before you catch cold!” she yelled once more before I heard the door slam as she went back inside.

“oh great.” I muttered as I righted the water trough and put the hose into it. “Of course she would say that just as I was dumping the water. I hope she doesn’t get too upset with me for taking so long.” I lean against the quad as I wait for the trough to fill, quickly shutting it off once it does so and hopping on. I take off down the alleyways between the paddock, trying hard not to splash through any puddles, and drive around to the mudroom door. I knew that if I wasn’t already in trouble, I would be if I tracked mud all over momma’s clean house.

Once inside, I quickly toed off my mud boots and stripped off my raincoat, leaving both of them in their respective places near the door to dry. I was just stooping down to fold up my muddy pant legs when a 90 pound furry missile came skidding over the tile and took me out at the knees. I tumbled backwards, then grunted as I had the wind knocked out of me by a pounce.

“Hey Ray!” I laughed as I played with and fussed over my golden retriever. “Missed ya too, big guy. But let me up now, I need to go talk with momma.” I carefully pushed him off and clambered back to my feet before rushing to the kitchen where I knew she would be, Ray bouncing around me like a puppy. I walked into the kitchen to be greeted by the heavenly aromas of momma’s baking. Seeing all the finished treats sitting on the island and mommas back to it, I snuck forward on silent feet to reach for some of the fresh toffee.

“Touch that and Mamaw will haunt you for a month.” She said without looking up from the dough she was working, and I quickly snatched my hand back.

“Yes, momma.” I said as I settled at the island on a stool, resting one of my hands on Ray’s head and started scratching him behind the ear.

“Would you care to explain why it is I found a pair of your boots in the trash earlier?” she asked in a level tone, dropping a towel over the bowl and moving to a second. I froze, knowing that if I did not phrase my next sentence right, the imaginary trouble I was in would turn all too real.

“That would be because the boots are done, momma.” I said honestly, and prayed to the great spirits above that she did not see it as bravery. “I took them to a cobbler in town to see if there was anything that could be done to save them, but they are beyond repair.”

“I see.” She said in a quiet tone, removing the towel from the bowl and kneading the dough within. “And what are you planning to do for boots then?”

“I have been saving my allowance from pa, as well as my share of the winnings from the relays, for a while now. I had planned on getting the boots repaired. But now I’m going to make my old race boots into every day boots and buy a new pair of race boots.” I replied as I glanced over her shoulder. “What are you making, momma?”

“This particular batch of dough will be turned into Roti for our neighbors down the way. Their mother isn’t feeling well and can’t cook at the moment, so I thought that I would help out in some small way.”

“Excuse me, you’re making what?”

“Roti. It’s a type of unleavened bread that Indian cultures love. I tried some the last time I was at Tina’s and it was amazing. It’s fairly simple to make as well. I was considering trying to figure out a way we could incorporate it into our meals here.” She explained, her tone light and welcoming. But just as fast as that light tone came, it went, and her voice turned serious again. “Changing the subject will not get you out of answering my question, young man. I had asked what you were planning on doing for boots, as in what kind.”

“Oh, sorry momma, I misunderstood ya.” I apologized quickly. “There is a pair of boots at the local tack store that I have been eyeing for a while now. They are dark brown, I’d say almost and umber, color, with silver accent stitching.”

Momma nodded, as if a decision had been made “then I will drive you to town in the morning. Now, would you like some of that toffee you were reaching for earlier?”