The Politics of Eves #writephoto #shortstory

sue vincent oven

 This week’s #writephoto prompt has the above picture. As for the story that follows, it is a touch longer then usual and, erm, odd. Not sure what sort of cheese I’ve been eating…

Dan led his son, Gad, away from the trestle table where the Eves kneaded man-yeast into their dough. ‘You know son, I’m done with all this begatting.  It’s taking its toll. My beard is beginning to lose its lustre. Next year you’ll have to take over. Now grab that bag and let’s go.’

Gad looked back at the Eves. He would be begatting with them! How cool was that. ‘Where are we going, Dan, son of Barry, son of….’

‘It’s dad, son, when we’re outside. You’ll find it exhausting otherwise.’

‘Dad.’ Gad tried the word and it was good. This was a super cool day.

Dan was already marching past the stone seller and the purveyor of small miracles. Gad hurried to catch up. ‘You’ll need to concentrate, son. And try and stay relaxed. And don’t ask questions, ok.’

‘But where…?’

Dan strode ahead. They were already in amongst lots of other men, heading up the hill. Occasionally a shifty looking fellow in blingy sandals and a too-tight Thobe came towards them, mumbling ‘Buy or sell, buy or sell…’ Dan stopped one. ‘How much for 2 tickets for the front row?’

The man looked Dan and Gad up and down. ‘You teaching him begatting?’

‘Yes.’

‘How much dough have you got?’

‘Show him the bag, Gad.’

Gad looked very surprised as he opened the bag. ‘But Dan, son of… er Dad, what will the Eves say if you use the dough?’

Dan and the man sniggered. ‘They’ll understand, son,’ they both said in unison. As Dan took the 2 tickets, the man said, ‘You heard there’s a new Head Man?’ He sucked in his breath through teeth that weren’t there. ‘Not good.’

As they rejoined the flow up hill, Gad saw his dad was not happy and he was afraid. Dan said, ‘I feared this might happen, son. Let’s hope he’s exaggerating.’

It was only at the top Gad realised where they were. He looked at his father in awe. ‘We’re going to the Grand Opening?’

‘Yes son. It’s your time to see what your man-yeast is for.’

Gad followed in a daze until they were settled on a knobbly bench in the front row. They were staring at a wall of old rocks and a group of elderly men in loud robes and silly hats. ‘Why are they dressed like that dad?’

‘Can you see any Eves?’

‘No Dad.’

‘There you go; it’s the only time they get to wear them. Now, as the sun sinks and the rays strike that smooth grey panel in the middle, the two young chaps with hammers will climb up, put their feet into those smaller holes and smash the panel to bits.’

‘Is that the Great Oven?’

‘Yep son. Exactly so. As the sun fills the hole they’ve made with light the new females will be brought forth and laid out for naming…’

‘Aren’t they all called Eve?’

‘Well, yes, that’s true. But it’s always possible someone might have a dabble with a Ruth or a Bathsheba. Why, your grand grandpa Ezekiel.. Never mind. So they line them up, the Head Man…’

‘The Great Baker.’

‘Yep, that’s his official title but since the actual baking is left to others… Look I said don’t ask questions.’

‘But I didn’t Dad. It was a statement and…’

‘HE comes forward and anoints the new additions and then chooses the new dough to be placed into the Great Oven for the annual bake-off. Only this year…’ Dan looked very glum.

‘Why the long face, dad?’

But Dan shushed his son and they watched as the ceremony began. Finally, twelve little girls were placed on the table in front of the cheering crowd. Gad stared in awe. He knew each type from school. The Molasses Black, the Honey Multigrain, the Crusty Gold Cottage, the Browns and the Brioche Yellows.

The noise suddenly ceased at the guards parted and a tall blond man entered the auditorium. He approached the newly baked and glared. He turned to his henchperson who turned to a lesser henchperson. Finally, the twelve were wrapped in muslin and taken away without the names being called out. Next to Gad, Dan sighed. ‘I knew it. I bloody knew it.’

‘What dad?’

Dan and Gad watched as the Head Man began to choose the forthcoming year’s dough. It was universally pale. ‘This new Head Man, he’s determined to change things up. Next year, they’ll only be white dough and everything will be half baked.’

‘Oh dad, is that so? Does that mean we’ve been Trumped?’

‘I told you not to ask questions, son.’

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published three books - Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle, My Father and Other Liars and Salisbury Square. In addition I published an anthology of short stories, Life, in a Grain of Sand this summer. A fourth book will be out soon. This started life as a novel in a week on this blog and will follow later this year. I blog about all sorts at geofflepard.com and welcome all comments. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
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26 Responses to The Politics of Eves #writephoto #shortstory

  1. Half-baked white dough….hmmmm. Is that to be our future ??? Maybe so, but I have faith that we will survive/overcome, Trumped or not.
    p.s. Blame it on the cheese. ☺

    Liked by 2 people

  2. steharris says:

    Great little short story

    Liked by 1 person

  3. willowdot21 says:

    Loved it ! Saw that nutter coming!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Charli Mills says:

    Ha, ha, ha…cackling with delight! I think you ate some bad American Cheez Wiz!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Michael says:

    Fantastic Geoff, loved it…..how clever good sir……

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Mick Canning says:

    I would like some of that cheese, Geoff.

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Pingback: Photo prompt round up – Mine #writephoto | Sue Vincent – Daily Echo

  8. I did some research, Geoff, and it turns out you weren’t eating cheese at all. It was actually mushrooms. Got any left? I’ve had a rough week and you seem to have the antidote.

    Liked by 1 person

  9. macjam47 says:

    Hahaha! Quite a story, but being Trumped is down-right scary.

    Liked by 1 person

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