Her explosive laughter startled the other ladies the instant she walked in the store. Her laughter was so loud and disruptive nobody even heard the door chimes.
Marcy froze in the doorway as her mother bumped into her and pushed her in. She tried to stifle her laughs but tears kept pouring out of her eyes and the giggles went on autopilot.
She had never even been tempted to walk into this store. Too snooty for her taste. But as soon as she complained to her mother about her birthday gift she immediately grabbed her car keys and jiggled them in her daughter’s face “Let’s go now! I’ve always wanted to check that place out!”
“But Moooom…” why is it that even at the life changing age of 30 Marcy still couldn’t resist the urge of acting like the official baby of the family?
With all these women staring at her, visibly appalled by her bull-in-a-china-shop demeanor she couldn’t even remember what made her laugh so much in the first place. She stood next to her mother, who although emitted no sound, her jumping shoulders revealed that she struggled to control her laughter just as much as Marcy did.
Of course her father would have never given her a silly gift certificate to this store before marrying the Princess! Lady Isabelle always raved how this dead-end town had nothing compared to her precious ville de Québec with the exception (it goes without saying) of her beloved Siiiiimons. Why is it she pronounced everything else à-la-français except for Siiiiimons? Such a snob!
Just thinking about her new stepmom was enough to kill the laughter for good, however the tears had a mind of their own.
“How much is the gift card?” asked her mother “Just so we have an idea of what to look for?” Marcy shrugged and pulled out her wallet, looked at the card, closed her eyes “Fifty.” Her mom nodded and pushed her way through a group of ladies ogling a vase yelling out “Catch up little tomato, we haven’t got all day!”
From uncontrolled giggles, Marcy spiraled down a web of anger. She wanted to fling her insignificant gift card into the flock of tight lipped ladies holding their cardigans snug against their brittle dry old bodies.
But instead she just stood there and fought the tears while her mother debated over china vs silver.
Yay! This is my first ever prompt from Sarah Selecky‘s writing prompts: Write a scene about a gift certificate. Use the word “flock.” Write for at least 10 minutes. Write by hand, in your notebook.