@ofincantations asked: “i never want to hear you say that again.”
It didn’t so much hurt, but it was the speed in which the back of Mary Lou’s hand came in contact with his mouth that startled him. He had jumped, dropped his spoon, splashed a bit of vegetable stew on the table as he brought his hands up to cradle his mouth. Sometimes he swore, she was always on edge to give him a smack. Patient but itching to catch him slipping up even the slightest bit because, to her, all infractions were seen the same; it coincided with the Bible! All sins were created equal, as were all violations to her list of rules.
So Credence innocently using the word ‘swanky’ to describe something he had seen while out running errands, was just as bad as him using the Lord’s name in vain in his mother’s eyes. He lowered his hands, trying to blink back any tears that might have welled up. “I’m sorry...” he mumbled, grabbing his napkin from his lap to mop up the spillage of broth he had dribbled across the table. “I didn’t know it was a bad word.” But his mother never did like slang; she didn’t want her children sounding like the common hoodlums that ran the streets. “That’s just- that’s the word he used to describe it. The car. I was just repeating what he said.”
