The contest closing date loomed large and his father doubled down on his efforts. After-school snacks became Barleybix spread with jam. Sunday dinner was creamed Barleybix followed by fruit cobbler with Barleybix crumble. Saturday lunch was salmon pie with Barleybix topping. Even the dog ate Barleybix although after the diarrhoea episode, this was supplemented with kibble.
The monthly prizes rolled in the door. They had many sets of Olympic badges, some of which Frank traded for real food at school. Sure of a win, his father applied for passports. Frank looked constipated in his photo. He put that down to Barleybix. Every day, his father lay in wait for the mail.
Finally the day dawned and an official looking white envelope slid through the letterbox. Ravenous for answers, and possibly a square meal, Frank’s father tore it open, only to let the single sheet float to the floor with an anguished howl. Frank picked it up and read “Congratulations on winning an Olympic tote bag autographed by Russian Olympic hammer throwing champion, Yuriy Sedykh. We regret that you are not our grand prize winner but thank you for your participation in our contest. Enjoy your breakfast. Your Friends at Barleybix.”
Frank’s father scowled and growled. “Hammer thrower, I’ll give them hammer thrower.” He picked up the hammer with which he had been repairing the cereal box shelf and flung it through the kitchen window. Frank smiled to himself, as he fetched the dustpan and brush. There would be no more Barleybix for breakfast, lunch, or dinner in his future. Until the next obsession, things were looking up.
Clo Carey – July 2021
@clocareywriter @www.emilybowers.ca/ https://wordsbywhittall.blogspot.com/ @passionate_perspective @https://www.facebook.com/groups/1470587219691626 #WritersInk #Olympics #SouthShoreScribes
Teetering on the Edge 