Please visit the bookstore!
Bamboo Shoots
Every Good Boy Does Fine
There were my parents, and one angel, and one delinquent. My sister would announce my daily transgressions when my folks came home. Breaking my mom’s favorite vase, a huge glass sphere with a philodendron vine sweeping out of it, while playing fortune-teller, was report-worthy.
I stuffed the vine in a yellow mixing bowl. My sister chortled one of her evil angel laughs.
My mom, when my sister pointed out the bowl, picked up the first implement within reach — her favorite Martin ukulele — and splintered it across my butt. I wonder if she regretted that more than I did.
Like the word choice "splintered".
Mahalo, Rhonda, it was a tough word choice. Tried several including cracked, broke, and busted, but when I took a look at the damage to the ukulele, I decided that splintered was the right choice : )