Write Now Prompt: March 14th
Waiting was the hardest part. Mac shifted nervously in his chair. If everything went as planned, there would be no more living in Mom’s basement like a troll for this forty-year old stud, no siree!
He’d been waiting decades for the day he’d say good-bye to the harpy who made him call her Mom. When he imagined it, his farewell was accompanied by the hallelujah chorus from the heavens in recognition of the achievement.
The harpy in question wasn’t Mac’s biggest fan, nor did she encourage his ideas and dreams. Instead, she was forever nagging him. “Grow up and be a man! Oh for the love of God Mac, you’re forty years old, so act like it!”
All the more reason victory would be so sweet.
Ole Mom was due for one helluva surprise when he marched through the front door instead of using the basement entrance. He’d throw his proposal down on the TV tray, look her straight in her one remaining eye to say, “I’m going to be rich, who’s laughing now, Ma? Find someone else to do your pedicures, I’m leaving.”
She’d never see it coming.
So what were they doing in there? Nominating him for the Peace Prize?
They had to approve him, they just had to. How could they not when he, Macmillan T. Lafleur Jr., who’d found the answer to solving men’s relationship woes? He was a friggin’ genuis and today was his day to shine.
It was his destiny. The online psychic had told him so.
The door opened and Mac jumped. One look at the executive’s face and his dreams crashed back down to earth with a bang. He knew that look. He saw it all the time on Mom’s face. The thin man cleared his throat officiously.
“Mr…ah…LeFleur? I’m sorry. This just isn’t a good match for us.”
Mac heaved a sigh. There could be no denying it: the proposal was a complete failure. Especially with the red “Denied” stamped across it. It was time to do the walk of shame out to the parking lot, to where Mom’s Fiesta sat patiently waiting and go back home.
Again. Maybe she’d have pot roast for dinner…