Home Alone (by Sibylle)


Summary:   Hoss and Joe alone at home. A prequel

Rated: K   WC 600

Story Notes:

The story originally was written as a Pinecone challenge to the prompt All this happened more or less of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five.

Thank you, Sklamb, for betareading and correcting my English.

Home Alone

“All this happened more or less. Really, Pa. It happened, we´ve done nuthing…more ´r less,” the chubby nine year old boy said to his father, standing in a kitchen that might have looked better after a hurricane had blown through. Behind his legs, a second boy cautiously peeked  at their parents and eldest brother.

“If I don’t hear a real good explanation something else will happen to you both.”

Joe tightened his grip on his brother’s pants.

“Yes, Pa. I … I can explain,” Hoss gulped. ”First I learned Joe how to collect eggs. He’s pretty good. He found  around fifteen eggs all by himself.”

The small head behind Hoss´s legs bobbed. “I´s a good boy!”

“Onlyest the last one…he kinda threw it in the basket. And they broke. Not all of ’em, Ma, only five or six.” The boy glanced with an apologetic smile at his mother. “Still  enough left for cookies.…”

“Continue, Erik!”

“Yes, Pa,…uhm…I thought why waste all this good eggs and …I could cook them….”

“What?” Ben growled.

“Make…make scrambled eggs, because they were scrambled anyway,” Hoss stammered.

“So I took all the whole eggs out of the basket and poured the broken ones in a bowl. But it looked a little bit dirty with the egg shells and crumbs. So I strained it. I used the small sieve, Ma, and a lot of bowls, so it would be real clean,” he declared proudly. “And then we put it in a pan and on the oven.”

“Erik, you know better than to touch the lucifers.”

“Yes, Pa. I didn’t …”

“But…you touched them!” Joe chimed in staring wideyed up to his brother.

“Yes, touch but I didn’t light one!” Hoss looked angrily down to the three-year-old, hauled him from hehind his legs, and put him firmly in front of himself. “There was still a little bit of heat in the hearth. All we had to do was blow, honest, Pa!”

Ben nodded, lips pursed.

“But then there was ashes in the eggs, so I strained them again…and then I wanted to add a bit flour, because it looked  sorta skimpy. And when I get it,  Little Joe grabbed the panhandle and the eggs went all over him. He cried and I had to calm him down some. Then I swept the floor, but the broom got all dirty, so I washed it, and … maybe I  tapped the flour-jar with the handle.…”

“What’s that?” Adam broke in, pointing to the floor. “Is that  my book of fairy tales over there underneath the flour?”

“Sorry, Adam. I needed it to calm Joe.”

“Hoss, I.…”

“Adam, I can clean your book, I guess,” Marie tried to placate him. “Now out of here, boys! Hop Sing and I have a lot to do!”

Once they were gone, she sighed, looking around. “But, Ben, don’t….”

She was interrupted by loud shrieks.

Ben opened the kitchen door. “Adam! How did your brothers get into the horsetrough?”

“Don’t know, Pa. It happened more or less, I guess.”


Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

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