The Family Dinner Spreads Into Air.

The Cumulogen family sat down for dinner at around 7:30 in the evening, around 7:30 as in all around it. Mother took her seat by the window at 7:22, carrying her freshly made popcorn covered in melted cheese, to drink she carried a glass of diet coke, still bubbling, straight from the can. Sister sat down next at 7:24. She carried in a plate full of stuffed mushrooms, steaming from the oven, to drink she carried a bottle of water, ice cold from the fridge. Junior came to the table at 7:29, with a large plate full of microwaved chicken sandwiches, piping hot from the microwave, a glass of milk to drink. Father was last to the party. He sat down at 7:35. He brought in the other half of a left over sub sandwich, still in the styrofoam to go box, to drink he brought a tall glass bottle of beer.

They all took their places at different spots along the long rectangular dining table. They sat at different points at different ends, no one was directly across from anyone else. Mother brought along a gossip magazine to the table. She wanted to know all about the latest exploits of Paris Hilton. Junior brought his iPod to the table, and was playing music through a set of small speakers, classical music, not normally in his taste. Sister brought her laptop computer. She needed to write a paper over Charles Darwin, and she looked up the information in plain view of everyone else. Father stared out and across into the living room at the television, his attention was focused on a baseball game, a player was about to set the all-time home run record.

Mother ate her bowl of popcorn with her fingers, licking her fingertips to get the bits of melted cheese. She openly belched as the gas from her soda worked its way out. Junior popped his miniature chicken sandwiches into his mouth, chewing them very little before swallowing. His glass of milk did not mix well in his stomach with all the greasy chicken meat, but he drank it anyway because he loved the taste. Sister took each of her stuffed mushrooms and sucked out the meat first, slowly working it loose with a deft tongue. Her bottle of water cleansed the flavor from her mouth between bites. Father took large chomps of his sandwich, washing down the bits of lettuce, tomato and roast beef with his dark lager. The alcohol buzzed him and his head was light.

In the next moment the Cumulogen family became completely still. They all sat up directly, with great posture, their backs as stiff as boards, Their eyes began rotating horizontally in their heads, the whites of their eyes flashing quickly after the dark of the pupils. Their hair grew out and began to twist around in clockwise motions, so that it wrapped around their heads in a tightening force. Their necks were next, turning faster and faster. Their arms grabbed at their torsos as if they were hugging themselves, and their chests followed suit, all turning faster and faster in clockwise motion. Their legs crossed and formed twists. Their entire bodies twisted inward, stretching out and out into smaller smaller and smaller space.

The action continued on, the force of the twisting created gales of wind, blowing mother’s magazine onto the floor, drowning out Junior’s speakers, driving a fork through the monitor of Sister’s laptop and throwing a chair in the way of Father’s view of the the television. At last, their bodies had winded up into nothing but air, and having become horrible cyclones, they twisted out of the dining room in different directions, flying out of any open window they found. Father to the east, Mother to the North, Junior to the west, and Sister to the south.

~ by thethingswethink on October 16, 2007.