The Last Cherry Pie

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
In the Wilson household, fitness is key to a happy family. So what happens when Dad brings in three cherry pies?

Submitted: March 19, 2009

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Submitted: March 19, 2009

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"Come on, Grace! Not too close! Tuck in your knees, sweetie! Adda' girl!" I heard my Mother cheering from the sidelines of the gymnasium. This little distraction kept me forward. And my flips tightened. I was afraid of embarrassing my Mother. Sometimes, I will do bad. She wasn't exactly "supportive". Just loud and peppy.

My floor routine was coming to a close and the clapping began. I slid into my acceptable splits and beamed at my family. Zachary, Sandra, Winnie, Michael, Heather, Mother, Dad, and Olivia cheered for me like all the other parents and observers in the large audience. This was junior championships and I was rocking it perfectly. The music stopped as I did right on cue. I finished properly and trotted off the spotlight. Clapping faded at Tiffany Morson went onward. I grabbed my duffel and waited for my big family out front. The scores were up. I was first, as usual.

My dad was the first to spot me by the car. "You did amazing, sweetheart. We're all so proud of you, honey." I hugged him and he stepped back and sniffed. "Whew! You smell alot like hairspray." HE chuckled and opened the big red van up. I stepped in and sat in the back corner. Alone, I hope.

"GRACE MARIE WILSON! I'm so lucky you didn't fail. Your routines were awful!" My mother scurried over and grimaced at me firmly. Remember what I said about being anti-supportive? Well, that applies here. "Mother, I aced it well. I swear! What's so wrong?" She shook her head and told me to "drop it". I did obediently. The rest of my siblings filed in and shut the van's sliding doors loudly.

"What do you guys say to going out and getting some SWEETS?" My dad turned around and smiled foolishly at us all. We gasped. Mother was very picky about food and what we should eat and so forth. She doesn't accept of us eating non-healthy sweets when we have the options of carrots and ranch. It's absolutely remorse.

"No, Richard. Are you crazy? That type of stuff could kill my little angels!" Zach and I groaned. We were twins, both 15. This was so not fair! "Little Angels, Mother? YOU'RE THE CRAZY ONE, THEN! We're old enough, now! And Olive can get some, too!" Michael shouted over the chaos brewing in the cramped red van. I laughed. Mother's expression was so super hilarious.

My father lost the arguement with my dictator of a mother. She smirked alot and huffed at my father's frazzled expression. "It's for the best, Richard. That pie you want will make MY children fat.


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