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As Hutt As It Gets

November 25th, 2011 by admin

Helena Hutt’s family grumped their way through dinner. Helena has joined the home-grown artisanal wagon, and her two sons balked at silverbeet yet again. Matters were not helped by her husband Henry saying, “If you don’t eat your dinner, we’ll sell you to Aunt Karin as indentured laborers.” Everybody went to bed in a huff.

On an 11:30 lav run, Henry hears whispering from the boys’ room. Inspiration strikes. When he puts his head through the boys’ door, they fall silent, their eyes shining in the near-dark.  “I need you to be very quiet.” Both boys nod. “We’re going to Mickey D’s. Don’t wake Mum.” It’s a warm night. He doesn’t even grab coats. In their pajamas, the three of them pad out of the house, grinning.

The fluorescent-flooded counter has a substantial line at midnight, and the boys’ nostrils dilate as they smell hot chips. “Can we eat it here?” they plead. It’s a good idea: if the wrappers don’t wind up in the kitchen bin, they’ll surely get away with it. Inside the wonder of the midnight McDonalds, they gape happily at teenagers and rough blokes. Two of the teenagers turn out to be cousins the boys admire hugely, setting the crown on the evening for them.

Henry shouts them all milkshakes. Just as he’s getting the tray, his phone beeps. Crap, a message from Helena. They’ve been rumbled.

BRING ME A CHOC SUNDAE?

 

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