The stories haven't been coming for a long time. Mommy brain! But Baby is 7 months old, and this story is finally cooperating.
I've been thinking about Frank. Everyone is so mean to him, and he is so unpleasant, but then you start to pay attention to some of the stories he tells from his childhood. I started thinking maybe there is a reason that he is the way he is. First chapter please read and review! :)
A little boy sits at the dinner table, cautiously feeding himself his soup. He mustn't drip any on himself, if he did his mother would be angry. Mother mustn't get angry.
He finishes the meal with no drips and no accidents. With a small sigh of relief he heads off to his bedroom to read before bed.
The next morning, before he opens his eyes, he knows. No, he thought hopelessly. Not sick. His throat was rough and scratchy, and his sinuses were aching. Maybe I can fake it, ignore it and it'll go away.
He dresses and goes downstairs, where his mother has bacon and eggs ready for him and his older brother. He takes a mouthful and chews, but, as he swallows he can't hid the flinch as the bacon scratches the tender flesh in his throat.
"Mother, Frank is ill!" His brother sounds gleeful as he makes the announcement. Of course he does, Frank thinks sullenly. Mother never gets angry at him.
Mother marches over to him. "Is this true?" She demands, hands on her hips. "Have you gone and caught something else?"
Trying to make himself smaller in his seat, torn between wanting to deny it and knowing that if he does, it will be that much worse for lying, he swallows again and says, "Yes, ma'am."
She shakes her head, then, without warning solidly backhands him across the head. "Weakling!" She turns and goes back to her seat. When she is seated, she barks, "Finish your breakfast!"
Frank picks up his fork and feeds himself the rest of his food, chewing the bacon well and carefully keeping himself from showing any pain. He would show her he was no weakling. The blow she had inflicted had brought tears to his eyes involuntarily, but as she back was turned he had brushed them away. His brother had not seen, he was too busy snorting behind his handkerchief over his brother's punishment.
I'll show them, Frank Burns thought again.