AVERSION: At Breakfast By Beverly Jones

Week 6 Word: Aversion
Count: 499 words
At Breakfast
By Beverly Jones
Together Christopher and the creature, holding up the hem of Christopher’s shirt in one hand, scrambled up the creek bank, in search of Brussels sprouts for breakfast.
They entered the house through the mudroom. Christopher whispered, “Wait here ’til I tell Mother about you.”
Christopher’s sneakers squished and squeaked as he crossed the linoleum floor.
Mother was making coffee at the sink. She stiffened when Christopher said, “Mother, see what I found.”
Mother harbored no aversion to finding animals and animals finding them. A goat who screamed and fell over, miniature Lop-eared rabbits, peacocks crying demonically on the roof, and a small alligator were just a few of the visiting menagerie.
Mother caught the children carrying pillows and blankets into the feed shed. Knowing that all their animals had covering for the not too cold night, she found the unauthorized guest and called her parents. But the last time one of the children said, “See what I found,” it turned out to be a kitten whose paws weighed 5 pounds each when she grew up.
“I found it.”
The twenty questions game began, “Where did you find it?”
“In a box.”
“Where was the box?”
“In front of the grocery store.”
“What was it doing in a box in front of the grocery store?”
“Some kid was giving kittens away.” By then the kitten was in her hands and licking the base of her thumb. The kitten moved in.
Knowing she might regret this “I found it,” she sighed, rubbed the side of her face, and turned to Christopher.
“Where in the world have you been…” Her words hit full stop as she saw the still damp, bedraggled creature in the doorway.
“See? I told you I found it. Down by the creek. It’s very hungry and doesn’t like peanut butter and jelly. It likes salad. I know it’s really early in the day, but can we feed it salad for breakfast? It can have mine. I won’t eat any for dinner.”
Christopher rushed his words so they sounded like a giant run-on sentence, hoping Mother wouldn’t hear his offer to skip dinner salad.
“Nice try.”
The creature’s silver hair was tangled over its mahogany colored shoulders. Its large dark eyes, fringed all-round with long black eyelashes, peered up at Mother.
Mother took a deep breath. “Hello?’
The creature tilted its head.
“No P,B, and J?”
The creature shook its head.
“Salad? At six-thirty in the morning?”
The creature tilted its head. It produced the small leather bag, pouring out the wilted lettuce, floppy celery, dried radishes.
“Oh dear, that just won’t do.” Mother bustled around the kitchen, snipping herbs from the windowsill pots, dicing tomatoes, tearing lettuce leaves, arranging spring carrots and radishes on plates.
Mother, Christopher and the creature, with its silky silver hair now dried and wearing a fresh shirt of Christopher’s down to its toes, sat at table at seven a.m. for a breakfast salad without brussel sprouts. The creature smiled and tilted its head.

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