Paul watched the last glob of mashed potato splat onto hardwood floor. His eyes moved to the baseball, to his wife, to two mortified faces.
“What did I tell you about playing ball in the house?”
“Not to,” his sons answered in unison.
Paul sighed. “Honey?”
Alice obligingly closed her eyes.
Alice started awake. Darting to the kitchen, she saw her husband fussing over the turkey, mashed potatoes safely on the counter.
She turned. A ball speeding to the bowl of mash instead smacked into her raised hand.
“What did your father tell you about playing ball in the house?”
This story was written following the guidelines of Carrot Ranch’s Nov. 8 Flash Fiction Challenge. Flash Fiction must be exactly 99 words and follow the week’s prompt. This week’s prompt was: mashed potatoes and superpowers.