All fiction is somehow autobiographical

When I was a preschooler begging for “just one more story” my mum would often retell events that had actually happened to me but using the silly names of Blip and Blop for the characters who represented me and my mate Amy. The best story was about the day Blop fell off the slide. It went something like this.

One day Blip and Blop were playing in Blip’s backyard and Blop fell off the slide and lay motionless on the grass. Blip went running into the house calling out, “Mommy, Mommy! Blop fell off the slide!” And Blip’s mommy ran outside and picked up the limp body of Blop and carried her home to Blop’s mommy who probably shot Blip’s mommy a look that indicated she thought she was a neglectful mommy for letting Blop fall off the slide and letting Blip watch programs like The Jeffersons on television.

Ok, that last bit wasn’t how she told it—but that is no doubt what happened in real life. Well, here is a modern retelling for our time. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent.

Frick and Frack had been married for nearly 19 years. Frick did most of the cooking and Frack happily gobbled up all her delicious vegan food. Frack said that Frick could make any vegetable taste good. Frick and Frack loved to eat roasted broccoli. One day Frick roasted up and big ole pan of broccoli with a drizzle of olive oil and a bit of fresh cracked pepper. When she pulled it out of the oven she carefully divided the broccoli spears into 2 equal parts. Frack was a gentleman and always let Frick serve herself first because she had worked so hard cooking. She put 6 spears of broccoli on her plate and left herself 5 more for when she came back for seconds.

 “These pieces of broccoli on the right are mine,” she said pointing to the roasting pan, “The ones on the left are yours.” Then she sat down and waited for Frack to fill his plate. When Frick got up to get her remaining pieces of broccoli –duh duh duh! They had disappeared!

 “Frack, did you eat my broccoli?” she demanded.

“Um, was that some of yours? You said all that was left was mine.” He whimpered.

“No, you numpty, I said the ones ON the left were yours!” she laughed. So after that every time she roasted broccoli he made a big production of  saying “Now all of this is mine, right?” and she made a big production of laughing but what she was actually thinking was: if he steals my broccoli again I’ll knock his block off.

The end