Propped Up
first published in
Pindeldyboz Christmas Muzak was piped through to every store in the shopping mall. Giant red velvet bows adorned reproduction Victorian gaslights. Yards of glittered cotton pretended to be snow. A Santa rang a brass bell.
“If you ask me, it ain’t natural,” Ted muttered.
Sunny was more optimistic. In her blissful eighteen years, she had not yet had an encounter with Father Cynicism. “It’s like a miracle.”
Before he could counter her statement, she flicked on the vacuum cleaner and got to work on the big carpeted cubes.
Ted yelled, “Passive aggressive,” but nobody heard. He adjusted his belt, then fogged the camera lens with his breath and wiped it.
When Sunny had finished with the prop cubes, she turned off the vacuum cleaner.
“Freakin’ fertility drugs,” he called out too soon, proving he had been saving it until the din subsided.
“She sounded so happy on the phone that we could take their picture.” Sunny pulled down the snowy pastoral scene backdrop. “She said sh…