A Mark Short Story
Number 1—300 Miles*

Back story for Mark’s character
Plotline—Childhood sucks


Sometimes you are forced to grow up quick. Mark McAdam, aged 7 sat at the kitchen table. Staring at yet another compartmentalized meal in a plastic microwavable tray. Macaroni and cheese, peas and carrots (gross), and cinnamon sugared apples. He liked Sundays when he got to eat on real plates (chipped and unmatched patterns, but still real plates.) and even if it was hamburgers (thin patties) on crushed buns and stuck together boxed French fries, it was better than this.

“How come you aren’t eating your supper, Mark? Don’t you feel well?” asked his Mother Judy who was running around the house getting changed for her waitress job at the local greasy spoon.

“I’m not hungry, Mom.”

She felt his head; he did not have a fever.

“Well, why don’t you wrap that up? You can eat that later if you are hungry for a snack.”

“Now, son, I want you to keep the door locked and don’t answer it, especially if it’s your aunt Marcia. Where did I put my keys?” Judy thought out loud as she tied her apron.

“You’re holding them.” Mark said

“Oh! So, I am! I’m such a scatterbrain! Love you, Mark.” She kissed him on the head

“Love you, too, Mom.” Why did she have to leave? His friend’s mothers didn’t have jobs like this or lived in run down apartments like they did.

Mark left the kitchen when Judy McAdam went for her night shift at restaurant and went to his small bedroom. He took the blue envelope out of his spelling book and went to the small nicked coffee table in the living room where his Mother kept some of her possessions in a candy sampler box. She didn’t have a bedroom, she usually slept on the sofa, it was supposed to have pulled out into a bed, but it was broken when his crazy aunt Marcia came over and plowed her butt on it. He opened the white paper that was in the blue envelope.

George Washington Elementary School Presents The 50th Annual Father & Son Luncheon

Mark checked the will not attend box and opened up his Mother’s checkbook so that he could forge her signature.
The phone rang and he chose not to answer it, it was probably yet another bill collector. He put everything back the way he found it and put the envelope back in his spelling book. He supposed he could eat his cold macaroni and cheese now, his mother worked hard to put food on the table. It would be wrong to waste it even if it taste terrible.
All the other kids had Father’s.


*300 Miles the distance between Indianapolis, IN to the fictional Point Place, WI
Email Carol

Back To Main
Last Update 9/27/2003