THE TOPIC OF THIS CONTEST WAS:
The fishing pier was long, and narrow. It was late and she had to hurry before someone saw her. She clutched it tight as tears streamed down her face. When she got to the end of the pier, she looked out over the water and, with all of her might, she threw it in.
(Stories need only touch on this topic in some way to qualify.)
Before you continue reading, take a moment to consider where you would take that story…
Nana’s tongue had turned black and nasty in its jar. It bobbed around in its water, cursing and yelling, and being plain mean. It had never been that way when she was alive; she’d always said the nicest things. “Your Nana’s like a ray of sunshine, always brightening up people’s days,” my Mama had said, but that sunshine must’ve got rained out when she died cos’ all she says now is words that fall like hailstones.
Just the other day she called my little brother Davey a useless, good-for-nothing free-loader who’ll never amount to anything. Davey’s only four, but he knew Nana had said something mean cos’ he went crying to Mama, and I had to repeat Nana’s bad words back. Mama said a strong word to Nana after that, but it didn’t do much, cos’ after Mama left Nana’s tongue went right on cursing, saying my Mama had no sense at all, and that she better stop eating those cream buns that she likes so much as she’s putting on weight in all the wrong places. I didn’t go repeating that meanness back to Mama. Instead I shoved tissue in my ears so I didn’t have to listen to Nana’s nastiness.
Still, even with the tissue in my ears, I couldn’t help looking at Nana. Her tongue was swirling crazily around in her jar. She normally only got like that when she was really mad. The tip of her black tongue was vibrating so hard against the water that she was even shaking the jar.
“Cut it out, Nana. Go back to sleep.” Even though I knew dead tongues don’t sleep.
Next minute, the jar toppled and smashed all over the floor.
“Oh, shit,” I said, and I knew that was a swear word, but I’d heard adults say that word plenty enough to know it wasn’t that bad, and I thought it was the right word for the situation.
There was water and glass everywhere; some was even in poor Sammy’s cat food. I took out the tissues in my ear, and for once I couldn’t hear Nana.
“Watch it, Ann-Marie!” shouted Mama as she came running in. “Get some shoes on your feet, girl, and be right careful not to step on anything. That glass is sharp as anything.”
“Mama…where’s Nana’s tongue?”
Mama’s face went pale. “Mum,” she called. “Mum, you there?”
But no one answered back.
“Oh, shit,” Mama said, which confirmed that was the right word.
“Is she dead? Did she shatter like the jar? Is she all over our…floor?”
“So many questions, girl. Get your shoes on, and help me look for her.”
I tiptoed out of the kitchen, avoiding all the sharpness, and found some shoes. When I got back I found Mama frantically searching among the glass.
“I…I think she’s gone, Anne-Marie,” she whispered. “I think she’s really…gone.”
And I know it’s naughty of me, but I smiled.
Life without Nana’s tongue was great. I could wear what I wanted without her telling me that I looked like a homeless person. I could bring friends back without Nana calling them weirdos and losers, and I could eat what I liked without being told that I’d end up a fatty boomstick just like my mother. Mama also seemed happier, even though she was the one who’d chosen to bring home Nana’s tongue for company. Dad, who’d never liked Nana being in our house, was perhaps the happiest of all. He stopped spending so many hours at work and started smiling again.
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” Mama said tearfully. “She wasn’t the same.”
“Without her brain to filter what came out of her mouth she could be…quite unpleasant,” said Dad.
“Nana was mean,” said Davey, telling it like it was.
“Rest in peace, Mum,” said Mama, and we all raised and chinked our glasses together. I wasn’t sure if it was a celebration, but Dad sure was smiling.
The next day when I woke up, Nana was back.
“Get up, shit-for-brains, or you’ll be late for school,” she scolded in typical Nana style.
I was so busy rubbing the sleep from my eyes that I couldn’t see where it was coming from.
“And feed me, cos’ I’m flipping hungry.”
And there was Sammy, our ginger cat, sitting on the edge of my bed with Nana’s black tongue hanging out of his mouth.
“Nana — that you?”
“What did I do to deserve such gormless grandchildren? Of course, it’s me! Now get a move on.”
And I did move. I grappled Sammy to the floor and pulled. Nana’s tongue came off with a pop and Sammy scampered. Nana was wet and slimy in my hands, and I dropped her. She moved like a caterpillar, inching her way along my floor, but I grabbed a sock and shoved her in it, tying a knot at the top.
“Wait, till your Mother hears this! There’ll be a walloping I’m sure. I’ll…”
But I couldn’t listen anymore.
I got dressed and ran to the fishing pier, clutching the sock with Nana yelling and squirming all the way.
“You’ll pay for this. You little bitch. You’re—”
I took one look behind me, before opening the sock and throwing her into the water.
She was swallowed straight away by a fish.
Rest in peace, Nana.
Now, there’s only Grandpa’s dentures to deal with.
