2708. When Melville pulled the trigger

When Melville pulled the trigger in his lounge and shot the intruder dead he had no idea it was simply his mother-in-law dressed up to go to a fancy dress party.

No one believed it was an accident. The two had been at each other’s throats for years. She had never approved of the marriage – of the engagement really – and he resented the way she hovered about the house questioning everything he did.

It had been a decision motivated by kindness to have her stay at his and his wife’s home. They had built a special unit on the back lawn with its own bathroom, kitchenette, and sitting room. It had television and internet availability. She had a cell phone. There was even a place for her to park her car. But no! She was ever coming into the main house to rearrange this and that.

When Melville pulled the trigger she had been dressed in a black cloak, with a black mask, a hooked nose with warts, and a witch’s hat. Melville had got a heck of a fright. He pointed his gun, said “Hands up!” like he’d seen in the movies, and when she didn’t react he shot her. Dead.

Now he’s in prison. No bail. No trial as yet. Of course, it doesn’t help that he belongs to the wrong political party.

2449. The sinkhole

Moira’s mother-in-law had been staying for the entire week. The un-ironable drip-dry shirts had all been ironed: a lawyer should never be seen dead in an un-ironed shirt. The kitchen pantry had been rearranged: spices should be in alphabetical order. The online grocery shopping was cancelled: how could you pay for an organically-grown banana if you haven’t laid eyes upon it?

Moira was driven up the wall. Husband Jack had only the once come to Moira’s defence. It made the Hunga Tonga Hunga Ha-apai volcano look like a little campfire.

But tomorrow! Tomorrow Winifereti was set to go home! Winifereti had outstayed her welcome. Imagine Moira’s dismay the next morning upon opening the drapes. A giant sinkhole had appeared in the driveway. It was deep and growing. Moira, Jack, and Winifereti went out to investigate.

“I shan’t be able to get the car out the gate,” declared Winifereti. “I shall have to stay another week.”

“With a bit of a push coming to shove,” said Moira, “I think we could make that stay permanent.”

1780. Grandma Mother-in-law

“It’s beautiful, Grandma!” said Lynette. Lynette called her mother-in-law “Grandma”. Gwen had said “Call me Gwen”, but it somehow seemed too familiar. There was a tension, a strain, between the two. Now with the arrival of Lynette’s first child, and Gwen’s first granddaughter, the title “Grandma” seemed to answer a need.

“It’s beautiful, Grandma!” said Lynette. Lynette’s mother-in-law had brought along a dress for baby Olivia.

“It’ll be too big for her,” said Grandma, “but she’ll grow into it.”

“It’s beautiful, Grandma!” said Lynette. Quite frankly, Lynette thought the dress was the most disgusting thing she’d seen in years.

“I got it at a second-hand shop in town. Preloved the shop said.”

“It’s beautiful, Grandma!” said Lynette. It had prints of burning buildings on the fabric. It was the last thing a little girl would want to wear. More suited to a boy. And what boy would wear a dress? And why burning buildings?

“I thought,” said Grandma, “that having burning buildings on Olivia’s frock would signify that we’re not caught up in this old-fashioned pigeon-holing of the sexes. There’s nothing to stop a girl from wearing a fabric with burning buildings printed on it. There’s nothing to stop a girl from growing up and joining the fire brigade.”

“It’s beautiful, Grandma!” said Lynette.

“Look, Lynette,” said Grandma. “I think this dress is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I got it because I wanted you to know that you don’t have to agree with me. You’re the mother! You bring the children up the way you think best. And I can help in any way you think best. I know you think this dress is as disgusting as I do!”

And Lynette giggled. “Well the dress is kind of disgustingly cute in its own way I suppose,” she said.

Grandma laughed. Lynette laughed. Their relationship has not been the slightest strained since. In fact, they get on like a house on fire. Lynette has even started calling Grandma “Gwen”.

1727. Pamela makes a cake

It would be wrong to suggest that Pamela’s mother-in-law was horrible. In fact she was satisfactory – as are most mothers-in-law. It was her father-in-law who was the snarky one. His favourite party story was how he’d taken some leftovers home after dinner at his daughter-in-law’s house and not even his cat would eat it. Haw! Haw! Haw! He would repeat the punchline: not even the cat would eat it!

Pamela had a cat and it would eat anything – in fact she had three cats. And besides, Pamela wasn’t too bad a cook either. She wasn’t the greatest, most fabulous chef in the country, but she could cook a nice meal. When her father-in-law’s birthday was about to come up, Pamela invited her husband’s parents to dinner. Pamela was determined to show that she wasn’t as stupid a cook as the father-in-law made out. She would cook a really nice birthday cake dessert.

She spent ages combing through recipe books and online to discover something lovely that would require a bit of work. She found one and settled on it. It was a Raspberry Tuxedo Cheesecake. The recipe described it as a vanilla cheesecake that sits on a chocolate cookie crumb base, topped with raspberry compote and a drizzle of chocolate ganache. Pure decadence!

The rest of the meal would be simple and elegant, but the birthday cake would put her father-in-law’s cruel joke to shame. Pamela made little bits of the recipe over several days, but on the day before the birthday she spent hours! The “drizzle of chocolate ganache” was the most difficult. It had to be delicate, like a fine lace cloth. And the raspberry had to run evenly down the sides. Finish she did! Pamela put the masterpiece in the fridge.

The guests arrived! Pamela took her creation out of the fridge and placed it on the bench. The meal began! The birthday cake moment arrived! Pamela went out to the kitchen to make a grand entrance! The cats had jumped up onto the bench and eaten most of it.

981. Consulting mother

Married Son: Mum, there’s something I want to say. I’d like to have a talk with you.

Mother: You can say what you like to me, dear. What is it you want to talk about?

Married Son: Well it’s about my wife, Heidi.

Mother: What’s the problem? I’m very open. Does she find me difficult? You can say whatever you like.

Married Son: Yes. She doesn’t like the way you seem to criticize everything she does. It seems like she can’t do anything right.

Mother: I most certainly do not. What on earth gave her that idea?

Married Son: Well she…

Mother: It’s all in her mind. She’s a cot case, imagining stuff like that. She’s living in cuckoo land. I’m very surprised you married her. I thought you had more sense.

Married Son: Well she…

Mother: I DON’T WANT TO HEAR ANYTHING FURTHER ABOUT HER INADEQUACIES. YOU MADE THE BED. YOU LIE IN IT. END OF STORY.

Listen to the story being read HERE!

899. Ingratitude

Joshua was only thirty-three when he was diagnosed with a fast-moving form of stomach cancer. He was given a week; two weeks at the most; three would be a miracle. His mother took over.

She nursed him from his hospital bed. She sorted out his many visitors; yes, you can see him now; no, I’m sorry he’s resting, you must not disturb him.

How quickly the time passed, and how quickly all visitors were prevented from “upsetting him”.

And then he died. His mother took over the funeral arrangements. Joshua’s wife had had enough. She dismissed the mother-in-law. The mother-in-law had prevented her from nursing her husband in his final days, and now she was arranging the after match function.

Joshua’s mother was so upset that she didn’t even come to the funeral. What lack of gratitude! The ingratitude and unkindness of her cold-hearted ex-daughter-in-law.

To listen to the story being read click HERE!