It had been one of those days, Adeline had to admit that. Running errands, making sure the boys were neatly dressed and pressed and out with their schoollunches, their homework done in their schoolbags and so on. After that making soup for the dinner party they had planned for that night, which meant going to the supermarket and buy fresh vegetables, herbs and meat for the soup as part of this occasion.
So she didn’t exactly expect this to happen.
How CAN one expect a thing like that, after all? It can’t be held into accountability, Not for Adeline. Who was the kind of person to plan practically everything. From her clothes to her hairs she always looked the way she wanted.
When she walked into the kitchen, arms full of bags filled with groceries, armpits keeping the mail she took out of the mailbox, her teeth holding the keys, she nearly froze when she put down the bags of goodies on the kitchen table. For a huge, ticking bomb was in the livingroom. Sticking out of the mantelpiece which held the boys’ prices for chess, tennis and waterpolo. The bomb made those prices look rather bleak.
Adeline didn’t like it.
‘Mark?’ she cried for her husband, ‘Mark, did you by any chance order a bomb to be part of our livingroom area?’ it was a bit of a ridiculous question, but an organised family as they were, it did seem the most logical explanation. That Mark had purchased an object for the livingroom.
Mark didn’t answer as he simply wasn’t there. Adeline started laughing hysterically, pointed her finger at the bom.
‘You were not invited for this party, I know that for very sure!’ she accused the bomb in a motherly tone that let no doubt about her seriousness in the matter. She looked around for a quick solution. But this wasn’t the kind of problem that could be easily solved by rubber bands, sticky tape or paperclips. Or even an ’emergency sew’. Adeline looked around nervously.
‘You aren’t part of my plan, young man, you don’t even match my bloody curtains!’ she did have a point there. The curtains were orange, where the stripes on this bomb were purple. Still, the bomb didn’t seem to be very impressed. It just hung there, more or less.
‘I’m gonna tell the bomb squat on you, that’s what I’m gonna do’, Adeline told the bomb, as she reached for her smartphone and googled the number, more or less hoping the bomb would be intimidated enough to disappear on its own.
A few hours later, the bomb was indeed removed by the bomb squat. The dinner was saved.