- Lisa
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Lewie
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
The next topic is Complete idiot
LISA
A Family Portrait
We were playing at grannies. A raucous game of ball: when it hit a frame on the mantelpiece that fell with a clatter on the floor.
Nothing had broken. We all felt that relief but as I picked up the photograph I uncurled it: it had been folded to hide two more people. The mood in the room changed. The man looked like Daddy. He was set apart a bit from the others, emphasised by the crease.
I wished that the glass had broken so we could pick up the pieces, so we had something else to focus on.
RICHARD
Brushoff
I commissioned a painter to do a family portrait. It was one of those crazy, spur of the moment decisions that seemed like a good idea at the time.
I thought everyone would get into the spirit of things and be totally up for the sitting, but half the family just weren’t interested. Most of those who were, changed their mind when they found out how long it would take.
As for the rest, they all made excuses, and come the day, I was the only one who bothered to turn up.
I got him to paint me as Superman!
LIZZIE
Everyone stood, side by side meekly. Four generations. The photographer tried his best, but no one smiled. Back in his studio, he decided to reinterpret the concept of a family portrait. The grandmother’s face looking like a flowerpot, no top of the head, chopped horizontally above the nose, twigs around it (each twig representing a family member). At the last minute, he added, “We are all a part of this mess.” Why? No idea why he did it. He’s still waiting to be paid. The photo, however, was sold for a million to a multi-millionaire. Nothing happens by pure chance.
TOM
1044
Can’t just brush it off.
The town was deadly silent. A number of white vans glided up to the center of town. Slow crews of hazmat researchers exited into windswept streets. Methodically they gather items from every structure anyone may have spent even the shortest amount of time. Numbered and bagged mountains of items were collected. After days of collection members of the sorting teams had found one object evenly distributed across the city. On further inspection the shocking truth weighed in. The objects were not of this earth, so to the death they brought. The report on the president’s deck read: Hairbrush Fever.
1045
C.L.W.P
In a family someone is always the designated photo-take. A truly thankless job. And only possible if your baseline personality is sneaky. Sadly, even with the will to record your family over the year you just get wore down by the sour faces warding off the casual portrait. In my case I didn’t declare my with draw from the familial fray. So it took year before they notice a lack of Family portraits. Now the complaint were why I wasn’t sticking lens in their faces. Want to hear a secret: all photo will one day be images of dead people.
SERENDIPIDY
I guess it’s not your usual sort of family portrait.
Certainly, you can see us all stood in a big happy group, (I’m the one at the front, in the middle), and we all have big smiles on our faces, caught just at the moment we said ‘cheese’.
Of course, apart from me and my sister, you can’t tell that anyone is smiling; mainly because I’ve scratched their faces off.
My sister’s next on my list, and once I’ve slit her throat, I’ll be scratching her face off too.
And my smile will be even bigger than in the photo.
LEWIE
Title: Prompted Royalty
Secret Service agents entered the studio and informed Nancy, the photographer, that someone important was about to arrive. More agents swept through the back room, upstairs, and secured the building. Snipers could be seen on a nearby roof outside the windows.
The King and Queen soon arrived for a family portrait.
“Where is your family?” Nancy asked.
The King turned to her and said, “Probably off saving the world or something. Can’t you just Photoshop them in?”
“No worries. I can use ChatGPT,” Nancy replied. “Done.”
The Queen asked, “Don’t you need to take our picture first?”
Nancy replied, “Nope.”
NORVAL JOE
Still confused after his fainting spell, Billbert muttered, “Your grandparents rings?”
“Sit up,” Mandi said.
Though Billbert’s head was spinning and he felt terribly weak, he was suddenly sitting.
Mandi pointed to a picture on her bedroom wall. A young couple with flowers in their long hair and love beads around their necks were holding a baby.
“My grandparents were hippies,” Mandi said. “They were given these rings by a Romanian fortune teller. She said that if they wore the rings faithfully, they would never fight. My mother said it was true. My grandfather always did whatever Grandma told him.”
PLANET Z
I used to keep a photo from my childhood on the shelf.
The Salmon Seeker, a Lake Michigan salmon trolling boat my grandfather would hire now and then.
He, my brother, and I in foul-weather coats, sea pants, and boots, holding up a fish rack.
Everyone smiling, but me.
I get sick on boats, and had vomited continuously all throughout the stormy trip.
On the back of the photo, I had written “Never get on a boat again, never trust family.”
Now that most of my family is dead, I’ve burned the photo, all the photos, everything from those days.