October Flash Fiction #10 - Missed it by that much

“I don’t think they play at all fairly,” Alice began, in rather a complaining tone, “and they all quarrel so dreadfully one can’t hear oneself speak—and they don’t seem to have any rules in particular; at least, if there are, nobody attends to them—and you’ve no idea how confusing it is all the things being alive:  for instance, there’s the arch I’ve got to go through next walking about at the other end of the ground—and I should have croqueted the Queen’s hedgehog just now, only it ran away when it saw mine coming.” Alice in Wonderland, Chapter 8

Perhaps the best way to tell the story is to say it was the flamingo’s fault.  The flamingo, being plastic and thus likely totally inert and without a soul, won’t mind taking the blame.  And it gave me this scar right here on my shin.  Let me rub the dirt off so you can see.  Well, that didn’t work very well, did it?  You’ll have to take my word for it, although then I won’t have a word anymore and it will make it harder to tell the story.  I’m getting distracted.  What was I talking about again?  Oh, yeah, card games.  See, it was late on a Thursday night and we played hearts on Thursdays back then with friends.  I don’t know what possessed Jules to try to shoot the moon—that almost never works in hearts and I say this as someone who loved him a lot for his boundless optimism and his ability to dream up crazy plans like the time he tried to make an underwater tunnel for the fish in the koi pond in the yard and the basement flooded and all the family photos got kind of moldy and my grandma got this mildew mustache that made her look like a walrus.  The carpenters came and fixed it all up again.  Well, not grandma’s mustache—that was beyond repair—so I said a few words about how she used to love oysters and I dropped a few tears on the mildew and put her in the recycling bin.  Anyway, Jules tried to shoot the moon and missed it by just the two of spades, mostly because someone had inadvertently tucked it under a napkin at the other end of the table, not that I would ever accuse Jack of cheating in a purposeful way—he’s not that smart.  My feet were hurting from all the work making soup stock—it was a beautiful soup, roasted red pepper and cream in the chicken base with a swirl of pesto on top—and I had made the apple tart, too.  That’s why I lost my temper and shouted at Jules for being such an idiot.  It had nothing to do with the fact that he’d been sneaking out back for cigarettes and snogging with Jack’s hoity-toity girlfriend.  He stormed out, of course.  And then I tripped on the stupid lawn flamingo running after him and I’ve never been the same since.