Today’s prompt says:
Write about this character: Winston refuses to eat eggs unless they’re served on a blue plate. Why?
Winston’s mother shot him a frightened look.
“I’m sorry miss, are you sure?”
She started to sound like she was pleading. Winston hated it when she started to plead.
“White or brown,” the waitress replied, not responding at all to the lady’s unspoken cry for help.
“That’s all we got.” She said while refilling Winston’s mother’s coffee cup.
“Bu-” Mrs. Portridge started to say something but the waitress had walked away, pretending not to hear.
“Excuse m!” But the place was too loud. Well it wasn’t loud at all, it was just the words getting choked in Mrs. Portridge’s throat.
She turned the worried look back to Winston.
He knew exactly what was going on, but he wasn’t going to say anything.
He also knew his mother was going to try and make it better. She was going through torture and he knew it-slash-didn’t care.
On the surface this might seem like a mother and her little boy getting ready to enjoy breakfast.
But look a little closer and you’ll see a woman scared shitless and a little boy who seems almost too happy.
“Winston, they don’t have any blue plates here,” she said.
Mrs. Portridge’s blood pressure went up one point, if that’s a thing.
“If I don’t have my eggs on a blue plate, the day is not going to go well, mother.”
What Winston meant by “not going to go well” could have been a number of things. Thrown tables, blood and tears were all more or less guaranteed.
He wasn’t the typical tantrum thrower. He actually hated what he called “wasted tantrums”; arms in the air, yelling, a thrown plate.
Whenever he saw one of those kids behaving like that, (his mother jealous at such generic bursts from the other kids – those she could handle) he scoffed. Those other kids were amateurs.
When he got started everyone went still and silent.
The problem that was going to start this tantrum was the eggs on a blue plate issue. Winston had seen a little boy on his favourite TV show eating eggs on a blue plate, and he wanted to be like that little boy.
Something about the way the boy commanded everyone’s attention, looked so happy and satisfied. Winston wanted that. He would even waste a tantrum on it.