Now, on to the story. Don’t let my rating fool you – it’s because I fail at short stories, not because the story itself was a failure. The Grownup is the tale of a woman who had a pretty horrible childhood. Forced to panhandle by her lazy sloth of a mother, she took the first chance that came her way in order to escape. That chance came at a place called “Spiritual Palms” . . .
I’d answered an ad for a receptionist. It turned out “receptionist” meant “hooker.”
Like déjà vu all over again. No worries, my dear MC – it happens to the best of us.
It’s at Spirutal Palms where our leading lady makes a real name for herself – in the form of rubber-gloving-up and performing 23,456 handies over a three-year period . . .
Unfortunately, with that much repeated hand motion carpal tunnel syndrome was inevitable. Lucky for our MC she also was blessed with an ability to see auras which lead to a job not in the sticky back room. That is where she meets Susan, a wealthy woman who is experiencing some difficulty adjusting to life in her renovated mansion, as well as with her stepson. The boy seems a little . . . off. Or maybe he’s just pubing out? I don’t know. I have a teenager and I’m always struggling to figure out if he’s possessed by a demon or simply hormonal . . .
Whatever the case may be, it’s Flynn so some twists and turns and stuff and things then ensue. And then? Well, then it ended. Dammit! I was just getting warmed up. But again, it’s Flynn. I have a feeling her response to my cries of wanting more of her story would be something like this . . .
I did indeed whatever. Pass me another cup of Kool-Aid, you booktease. I’m still thirsty.