Here’s my March Wildcard Wednesday improv response (click that link for the rules and such).

 

I could hear yelling coming out of the store before Mel even opened the glass door.  I hesitated in my penny loafers, felt my kilt hem brush against the middle of my thighs.  Mel, however, just sighed.  She gave me an apologetic look under her relaxed and curled bangs.

“I guess you’re about to meet my mom,” she said.  She reached for the scratched aluminum handle with the word “PUSH” embossed into it.

“Wait.”  I was really nervous.  “Maybe I should come back another day.”

“What for?  She’s just yelling at one of my brothers.  Let’s go see which one.”

I followed my friend into her family’s convenience store.  Bells attached to the door tinkled, announcing our arrival, but it was difficult to hear them over the shouting.

“You, young man, are a Dis!  Grace!”

“Maman, I said I’m sorry!  It’s not like I took it from somebody else’s shop, anyway.  And I was gonna pay for it event–”

“Which brother is that?” I whispered into Mel’s ear.

“A DIS!  GRACE!  To our FAMILY!” Mrs. Valcour smacked the formica counter in front of her.  “To our NEIGHBORHOOD!”  Smack!  “To your FATHER!”  Smack!  “To ME!”

“Jean Christophe,” Mel whispered back, “second youngest.”

Jean Christophe winced each time Mrs. Valcour smackedthe counter.  Still, you could tell by his face he was happy that the counter was taking his place and he was just getting the verbal version.

Unfazed, Mel walked behind the counter, maneuvering her giant Esprit shoulder bag further onto her back so she wouldn’t knock over a display of Funions and Doritos.

“Hi, Ma,” Mel said.  She kissed Mrs. Valcour on her fury-paled cheek.

“Bonjour, ma fille,” Mrs. Valcour answered, kissing the air now between them and shooing her middle child away from the present drama.