First Family by Bowen Gillings

Author:Bowen Gillings
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Short Story, Fiction, Humorous, Short Read, Fantasy, Biblical Parody
Publisher: Bowen Gillings
Published: 2022-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

THE animals were gone for the day. Adam’s blue tie lay on the end table. He had his feet up on the footstool, a cold bottle of beer to his lips, and was pondering two great occurrences: one, plans of getting away to the mountains with his wife and two, how to tell her that the orangutans he just named asked him to go bowling this Friday, when the front door banged open and his eldest barged in.

“I’m starving,” Cain grumbled, dumping soiled tools on the floor and charging for the kitchen. The odor of sweat and manure followed him like a noxious shadow.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Adam, beer bottle still poised.

“Dunno. Do I look like his keeper?” Cain shot back. “Oh, and this was on the porch.” He tossed a sealed envelope on the coffee table and disappeared into the kitchen.

Adam sighed. He needed to have a serious talk with that boy. He took a swig of beer and picked up the mail. It was addressed simply, in a firm hand: Kids. Adam groaned, tore open the letter, and read. His eyes scanned faster and faster across the page in a growing wave of shock, disbelief, and joyous possibility.

So rapt was he that Abel arrived, politely removed his dirty sandals at the door, set his shepherd’s crook in the umbrella stand, hung his cloak on the proper hook, and even took several sonorous whiffs of the flowers he’d brought home without any notice by Adam. The youth, seeing his father reading, softly asked, “How was your day?”

“JESUS!” Adam shouted, surprise nearly knocking man from chair. A flailing arm nearly knocking beer from table.

Abel cringed, shielding the flowers with his thin frame.

“Son. Sorry.” Adam held his free hand to his chest, the letter crumpled in his other one. “You, uh, wow. You startled me.”

“I didn’t mean to,” whined Abel, still cringing.

“It’s okay, son. It’s okay. My day was fine. Thank you for asking.”

The lad cautiously righted himself, looking sullen and fidgeting with his bouquet.

“And how was your day, Abel? Getting better with the sheep?”

“A bit,” answered Abel, then shifted away from any further discussion of animal husbandry. “I came up with a new poem. Want to hear it?”

“Um, well...” Adam glanced at the letter in his hand, avoiding the pleading eyes of his boy.

“So, there were all these flowers in the pasture and the sun shone on the dew and I just felt...” Abel looked to the ceiling and sniffed. “I don’t know what, but it was as if these words inside me had to come out and...”

“Is that Abel?” Eve called from the kitchen.

Abel placed the flowers beside Adam’s beer and sat on the settee eager for his father’s whole attention. “Anyway, Dad, these words just—”

“Yeah, he just got home,” Adam hollered back, looking past his son, the potential of the letter waxing as his patience for poetry waned.

“Dad, you’re not listening.”

Eve yelled, “Tell him dinner’s ready.”

“Let’s not keep your mother waiting.” Adam stood, smoothing the letter before carefully refolding it and tucking it in his shirt pocket.

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