Sitting on the chimbley

Elizabeth slammed a pot on the stovetop.

“Be careful,” said Lurvey. “You’ll break it.”

“I’ll break you.” She smashed down a skillet next to the pot and added oil, then turned on the burner.

“Maybe we could just eat out.”

“I will not waste money on a meal I can’t enjoy.” She hefted the pot again and filled it at the sink.

Lurvey smiled. “How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don’t ask you for your love; give me yourself and your hatred; give me yourself and that pretty rage; give me yourself and that enchanting scorn; it will be enough for me.”

“Gah! There! You’re doing it again!” Elizabeth slopped the pot back to the stove. “I can’t have a conversation with you, not a single exchange of ideas without a barrage of obscure English literature!”

“That was Dickens! How can you call Dickens obscure!”

Elizabeth stormed to the refrigerator and snatched out the carrots. She shoved them into Lurvey’s hands. “Here, you cut them. I don’t trust myself with a knife. All I asked was what you wanted for dinner!”

“Now good digestion wait on appetite and health on both.” Lurvey looked down at the carrots and then went for a peeler.

“Stop! Stop it!”

“I’m sorry, Lizzie! They just come to my mind unbidden…”

“No!”

“That wasn’t a quotation!”

“I can’t even tell anymore. Just stop talking. Don’t say another word to me.” She went back to the fridge and took out some kind of meat. She threw it in the skillet, and hot oil splashed up with a sizzle. “Ow!” She thrust her hand in her mouth.

Lurvey said,  “When angry, count four; when very angry, swear.”

“God damn it!” she shrieked around her hand. “I said stop talking. I’m sure that’s another quote.” She went to the freezer for ice. “Just slice the damned carrots.”

When she walked away from the stove, Lurvey realized that the same oil that had splashed her had landed on the burner. “Odds, bobs, hammer, and tongs! It’s burning!” He hastened to turn off the heat before the smoldering smoke became something more serious.

“Lurvey, this is all your fault!” Elizabeth ran the ice over her scalded fingers.  “I hate you sometimes!”

“Lizzie-bear, let me make dinner. Go sit and watch one of your shows. I’ll bring it to you in the living room.

“Fine.” She snatched a dishtowel to hold the ice and left the room.

To her retreating back, Lurvey murmured “After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.”

Scott gave me the idea for this one. And the quotations from this piece are as follows. I got them all from LitQuote, rather than dragging down the originals and finding them. And let’s be honest. Although I own it, the only Dickens I have read is A Christmas Carol. I cannot abide his other works, though I periodically try to get through one. (I haven’t in awhile. Probably time to go after him again.) The Shakespeare is actually printed on an apron I won as an undergraduate for writing the best paper in my Shakespeare class. Yes, I still have it.

“How beautiful you are! You are more beautiful in anger than in repose. I don’t ask you for your love; give me yourself and your hatred; give me yourself and that pretty rage; give me yourself and that enchanting scorn; it will be enough for me.” – Charles Dickens, The Mystery of Edwin Drood

Now good digestion wait on appetite and health on both. – Shakespeare, Macbeth 3.4

When angry, count four; when very angry, swear. – Mark Twain, The Tragedy of Pudd’nhead Wilson

“After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.” –Oscar Wilde, A Woman of No Importance

Oh.

And, with slight manipulation, the one from my prompt

“Odds, bobs, hammer, and tongs. I’m burning!” – Captain Hook … erm … J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan

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For the Scriptic prompt exchange this week, Cameron gave me this prompt: Odds, bobs, hammer and tongs!.

I gave Maya Bahl this prompt: “What are you going to tell your Mom?” “I’m not.”

About jesterqueen:
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.

Comments

Sitting on the chimbley — 10 Comments

  1. You have such interesting names in your stories. I love Lurvey.

    I love your response to Cameron’s prompt! I hope you had as much fun writing as I did reading. Your characters are very real to me.

  2. Yay! Love.

    Shakespeare, Dickens, Barrie, all crammed into a cheeky little nugget of a story. Between you and Stephanie, I’ve had a wonderful intro to Scriptic. Thank you.

  3. What a fun post and great prompt. You make it look effortless, my friend!
    Hugs,
    Kathy

  4. I really, really, REALLY love this one. And, I’ve always loved the word ‘chimbley’.

  5. claps her hands and smiles This is creative, though I have certainly come to expect that from you… it is still my right to say BRAVA… she writes another day.

  6. Good lord! Lurvey? Now that is a crazy name.

    Besides that, fun, clever piece. Those Brits give good stuff.

  7. This looks like something I would write – almost all dialogue. I love it! Very much like the arguments I have with my wife, her steaming and me calm (without the quotes). Once again, great work!