Lemon Cake

            “Stephanie, have you heard this?” Annabeth and Lucy were gathered around the radio speaker, listening to Dan the news man through the tinny speakers. I was eating what was left of my lunch.

            …strange side effects have been noted as a result of this, and the government has recommended that we all be on the lookout for these…unusual effects. The FDA says it’s not harmful, but we’ll see about that, won’t we? In further news…

            “What was he talking about?”

            “The lemon cake. Did you buy some of the old man’s lemon cake yesterday?” Lucy gave her warning with wide eyes. Lucy was so dramatic.

            “Well, yeah, but what’s wrong with it? I took it to my Grandma.”

            Lucy and Annabeth looked at each other. “You’d better call her.”

            Now I worried. Grandma wasn’t strong. I flipped my phone out and called. No answer. I punched out my timecard a little early–I figured Gary wouldn’t mind, due to the circumstances–and hopped on my hoverbike. I raced to her house and ran to her door, leaving the bike floating. If anyone takes it I’ll just have to punch their lights out. I know most of the people in this town.

            “Grandma,” I yelled as I was banging her front door. “Grandma, let me in. Are you OK?”

            “Coming, coming, don’t get your panties in a twist, dear!”

            I grinned. She must be fine if she used the panties remark. Normally that word was reserved for spicy conversations only. “Grandma, my panties are in a major twist. I need you to open the door so they can untwist!”

            She opened the canary red door. “Young lady, watch your language.”

            I pressed my lips together to stifle a laugh. “Yes, Ma’am.” I crossed the threshold and looked around. “Grandma, did you eat that cake I brought you yesterday?”

            “Well, yes, I ate some of it. It was delicious, dear. Would you like a piece?”

            “Um, no thanks. Have you noticed anything different, or…strange, maybe, since then?”

            “Why, whatever do you mean, dear?”

            My grandma’s eyes were too bright, too wide open. She thought she could pull off the innocent old lady act, but I knew better. “Grandma, tell me. What’s going on?”

            “Nothing at all.”

            “Liar.” My words got me the reaction I intended. She got on her high horse, as usual.

            “I’m shocked. I didn’t raise you, my only grandchild, to speak that way to the elderly.”

            I rolled my eyes. “Oh Grandma, come off it. I know you can cuss like a Marine when you feel like it. Now please tell me if anything weird is happening. I heard something on the news about it.”

            “Absolutely nothing, dear. I promise. I’m fine, don’t you worry. You know how those news people are always going on.” She raised her hand to me as if to give me a hug but stopped mid-air. Her nose twitched, and twitched again. Her mouth opened wide as she took in a huge breath, reared her head back, and gave a mighty sneeze. Pink glitter blew everywhere. It flew all over me, the couch, and the wall behind me. It was a glitter storm.

            I stood there, openmouthed. “Grandma! How long has this been going on?”

            She sighed. “Since last night. I was going to call you, but, well, this is rather embarrassing, you know. Grandmas normally don’t sneeze glitter.” She reared back and sneezed again. I dove behind the wing chair. This time the glitter was blue. She rubbed her nose. “It’s been getting worse.” Achoo. A gold shower sprayed the room, some blowing in my hair. I stared at my Grandma. I didn’t know what to do. For the first time in my life, I was speechless.

            “Well, look on the bright side, dear. Now we have a lifetime supply of glitter for every occasion!” She giggled hysterically at this. I didn’t find it funny, especially since my nose was itching, too.

            “I hope you’re not contagious, Grandma. Because if you are, then…” My nose itched ferociously. I inhaled and sneezed harder then I ever thought possible. A projectile of multi-colored glitter shot across the room, adding to the party on the floor.

            “Ooooh, that’s pretty,” Grandma told me.

***

Fiction Friday prompt:

The government has issued a warning that a particular (and common) household item has begun to have an unusual side effect on pets ( or children, or adults) . You realize that own this item and cannot contact anyone at home to check or warn them. When you arrive, you see…..

Spoonthing

A spoon clattered across the cool kitchen floor, putting a skid mark onto the highly polished surface.

            “Oh, Joey, Mama’s gonna kill us!”

            “Not if we rub it out, she won’t.” Joey’s thin shoulders hunched, instinctively forming a protective stance with his body. He furtively glanced over his shoulder at the living room. No movement from the easy chair. “Quick, grab a cloth.”

            Maribelle snatched the drying towel that always hung at the end of the butcher block counter top and tossed it to her brother. “Hurry.”

            He rubbed at the stubborn black mark. One minute seemed like ten and still the mark remained. Joey’s clear seawater green eyes met his older sister’s deep ocean dark blue ones, frantic and afraid. “It’s not working, it’s still there…”

            Maribelle grabbed the cloth, ran to the sink, and wet the tattered corner. She scrubbed the mark in a circular motion, really put her arm into it like Mama taught her. She threw glances at the easy chair every few seconds. “Joey, say something. So she won’t know.”

            Joey’s cheerful voice didn’t match his desperate eyes. “OK,” he sang, “my turn. What has four legs and doesn’t run?”

            “I don’t know, what?” Her breath came fast with the exertion of scrubbing.

            No answer from Joey. She craned her neck and saw his terrified face staring at the easy chair. It creaked and rocked. She looked at the mark. Almost gone. Rub. Harder. Please, go away, mark. She looked up at the creaking chair. Joey’s face was white, his eyes huge in his face, lips a stark, chapped red jumping out at her. Maribelle set her teeth as a hard knot of resolve twisted in her stomach. Not again, she thought, I won’t let this happen again. The black mark was now a faded gray, too faint for an ordinary human to see. Everyone, that was, except Mama.

            “Children, you are being model citizens, are you not? No messes? No…mistakes?” The voice, a thin burbling, oozed from the owners vocal folds and descended upon them, sticky and bad-tasting.

            Joey squeezed his eyes shut and grabbed at his ears. He whispered, “It burns! Please, Maribelle, hurry, it burns!”

            She scrubbed harder, faster. How did the freak in the chair know about the mark? She hadn’t even gotten up from watching TV today. “Everything’s fine, Mama.” She called, a false note of cheerfulness accompanying her lie. “Joey was just telling me a joke. Right, Joey?” She stared at her little brother, willing him to speak, willing him the strength to ignore the burns and give her the corny answer to the corny third-grade joke already.

            “Joey.” He stared at her, too frightened to speak. “What has four legs and doesn’t run, remember? What’s the answer?” He sniffed and glanced through the doorway at the back of the easy chair. A long tendril curled above it, lazily probing and scratching the top of a scaly head. The five tiny suction cups on the tip of the tendril opened and closed of their own accord, as if waving in a warm spring breeze. Joey turned his face back to Maribelle, then to the floor. The mark was now gone, as if it never existed.

            “Joey?” Maribelle gently prodded, “is the answer a table?” She expected him to cry foul. Usually Maribelle pretended she didn’t know the answers, conveniently forgetting that he learned all his jokes from her. He nodded, offered a high-pitched false giggle, and fell silent. They both stole a look at the chair again. All seemed quiet. The tendril was nowhere to be seen—always a good sign. The children sat on the floor together in silence for a moment.

            “Maribelle?”

            “Yeah?”

            “What has four legs and doesn’t run?”

            She smiled. “What?”

            Joey fixed his stare on her own. It scared her a little, the intensity of it. A seven-year-old should not have that kind of intensity. He opened his mouth and breathed out his answer.

            “Us.”

Very Mild Superpowers

“Cindy, he’s following us again.”

            “No, really? Are you sure?

            “I think so. I saw him back at the Cinnabon, and now he’s just come out of Rings-n-Things.”

            “Why would a guy go in there?”

            “My point exactly. He’s following us.” Melody snuck a glance behind them. She whipped her head forward. “Oh my gosh. I think he saw me looking at him.”

            “Is he cute?”

            “Kinda. In a Zac Brown sort of way, you know, rugged but could easily whip a knife out of his pocket and stab you at any time kind of cute.”

            “Uh, wow, Melody, you have an interesting sense of cute.” Cindy grabbed her friend’s arm and ducked them inside the Body Shop. “Let’s stay in here and see what he does.” They browsed for a minute, inhaling the scents of Warm Linen and Sea Spray.

            “Cindy, come here. This one smells good.” She held up Cherry Bomb.

            “Ugh, that reeks! You know what it reminds me of? Patrick McDonell’s old Mustang he was fixing up.” She giggled. “Remember when he took us to that movie and tried to make out with me? Gross.”

            “I know it’s gross, Melody, I’m just trying to distract stalker guy.” Her nose wrinkled.

            “Well, then pick out some good smells! Here, how about this one–Cranberry Tart. Take a whiff.”

            Melody inhaled the delectable scent. “Mmmm, you’re right. I can almost taste it. Reminds me of Christmas. Yum.” She looked up and grabbed Cindy’s arm, squeezing her nails into her friend’s flesh.

            “Ow!”

            “Shut up! He’s in here! Hide!” They ducked behind a tall display of Caribbean Blue. Body wash, soap, hand towels, and room spray done in a sickening shade of faded blue and cream was all that stood between them and the stalker. His eyes kept darting around.

            “Cindy, you’re going to have to do it or he’ll catch us.”

            “Oh, man, it’s so gross–I really don’t want to.”

            “You HAVE to ! It’s the only thing that will let us get away. No one will know it’s you.”

            Cindy wrinkled her nose again and shook her head slightly, watching the guy poke around the displays. She watched as he took something out of his pocket, stare at it, then slip it back into his jeans again. Her eyes widened and her breath caught.

            “Melody–did you see that?”

            “No. What was he looking at?”

            “It was a picture. A picture of us!”

            Melody’s horrified face silently screamed her fear. “But…” Her breath came faster. “Cindy. You have to. Do it now!”

            Cindy nodded. “I know. Alright. Ready?”

            Melody took a deep breath, held it, and nodded. Suddenly a loud, embarrassing noise ripped through the store, echoing for a full thirty seconds. Everybody froze. She heard a few snickers and laughs until suddenly all hell broke loose. Screaming shoppers fled the store, streaming out of the double doors like liquid humanity, not caring about their purchases. Their only thought was to get away from the hideous smell.

            Cindy and Melody let themselves be carried along in the wave. They calmly moved to the stairs and quickly exited the mall.

            “Do you see him?”

            Cindy scanned the parking lot. “No. I think we lost him. Do you think anyone knew that it was me?”

            Melody laughed. “Of course not!” She opened the Pathfinder’s passenger side door and got in. She turned her body to Cindy, already sitting in the driver’s seat and looking mournful.

            “I don’t know, Melody, this very mild superpower thing isn’t what I had in mind. I thought I would be able to jump really high, or write like the bionic woman, or co-ordinate my closet easily…I didn’t know it would be like this.”

            Melody’s shining eyes looked on her friend as she placed a hand on her arm. “Cindy, don’t be so hard on yourself. We never know what we’ll be blessed with, and anyway, you saved us. I, for one, am very glad that you have the ability to fart on demand.”

            Cindy shrugged, gave her friend a half-hearted grin, and drove away.

This week’s prompt: What is your character’s Very Mild Superpowers?