Story A Day 06: "Static Food"

“You know, when I was your age, you had to push a button to cook your food.” Gram was complaining again.

“I know, Gram,” replied Sam. “You told me before.”

“Not just one button, either.” She wasn’t going to stop. Sam resigned himself to listening to it once more. “First you had to push the buttons for how long you wanted to cook it for, then you had to set the temperature, then you had to push start.” She crossed her arms and looked sternly at her grandson, as though expecting an apology.

“Sounds like those were rough times, gram.” He hoped they could leave it at that.

No such luck. “Our food didn’t dance around for us, either. It just laid there on the plate.” Still the expectant look.

“Sorry, Gram.” The apology wasn’t enough. “Those must have been rough times.”

Wrong thing to say. “They weren’t rough times! They were better times! Back in those days, people actually had to work for what they had.”

“By pushing buttons?” Stupid thing to say, but it was too late.

Gram leaned in real close, her jaw clenched. He was gonna get it now. She lowered her voice, as though what she was about to say wasn’t fit for public consumption. “And in those days, boys and girls had their own clothes. You didn’t see little boys running around in dresses back then, son.” She sat back up and spoke to her dancing food. “Everyone had a place back then.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m not a little boy, gram. I’m fourteen years old.” He smoothed out a wrinkle in his flower-patterned skirt. “And it’s not a dress.” For once, he didn’t avert his eyes. He stared straight at her. “And I look fantastic.”