08 June, 2019

Flash Fiction - The Workaholic

"I don't want to be some kind of workaholic! Will you stop hounding me?" Lounging on the sofa in the living room, David was half-watching a Japanese game show before his mom had entered to clean.

"David, you're not working at all. There's a long way to go before you're in any danger of becoming a workaholic." Margaret collected the scattered magazines from around the living room, straightened them into a pile and slid them into their proper place in the holder on the side of the table. With no warning, she turned on the vacuum. 

David groaned, turned off the nonsense he'd been watching, and like a dog, fled the room in annoyance at the noisy machine.

Margaret didn't see her son for the next three days. She didn't question his absence. He was 26, certainly old enough to come and go as he pleased. There were dirty dishes and extra trash, so she knew he was around. 

Thursday evening, David bounded in around 6:00 and went straight to the kitchen, where Margaret was doing dishes. He grabbed a Pepsi from the fridge with a "Hey!"

Margaret glanced over her shoulder at him, more to check if he was alone or accompanied. "Hi, stranger," she said as she placed a dripping dish into the dish rack. He kissed her on the cheek and leaned against the corner of the counter near the sink where he could see her face.

"Got a job." He took a swig from the Pepsi can, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She smiled, wiping a sudsy glass, and raised her eyebrows at him. "Oh? Is that where you've been these days?"

"Yeah, pretty much. Work and then out with the guys from work. They're pretty cool."

"Good for you," was all Margaret said in response. She'd wait to react after he'd held the job for more than a month.

After a month, David was still working and going out with his new friends from the new job.

Margaret closed the magazine she'd picked up, and looked around the tidy living room. It felt like a long time since she'd had to clean up after her son. He was never home making a mess. She sighed and tucked the magazine in its proper place.

She hadn't expected to miss her lazy, layabout son this much. 
It's FICTION FRIDAY! (I think it's still Friday in the Western hemisphere.)

Every Friday, a new flash fiction story, inspired by reader comments. Feel free to leave a prompt for future use in the comments below.I'm almost out of prompts. I hope you liked that story, based on the prompt "workaholic" given during the A to Z Challenge by Nilanjana Bose (of Madly-In-Verse) on my "R" post (here).

If you choose to join in for Fiction Fridays, post a link to your story below in the comments. Next week's prompt is: "a birthday for twins". If you join me next week, be sure to come back and share a link to your story!


  1. Replies
    1. So I've heard!
      I almost didn't get it written this week. Whew!

  2. Well, that looked up. There should totally be a follow up to this one, whether that job works out or not ;)

    1. Yeah, I'm trying to avoid my inner darkness these days. It's too hot for that.

  3. I have a real disdain for adults who still live at home as a burden to their parents. I was waiting for him to "get his". I don't like him. Mom needs to change the locks now.

    1. Yeah, he's a slacker. I hear that's not atypical these days. Just another reason I never wanted kids.


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