Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children: The Cuppencaken


 The Cuppencaken

Roweena Patina was late for tea.   Her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff, invited her three days ago and yet, somehowRoweena didn’t know how, she completely forgot!

Now Roweena found herself racing through the streets of Van Schmoodenfloffen, at such a furious pace that one of her wooden shoes flung itself off just as she was passing the Van Windenflooffen Bakery.

And even though Roweena felt her shoe fly off — she was in such a tizzy, she didn’t even bother stopping to retrieve it — despite the aroma of Van Boozlephaffen Pie tempting her . . . tempting her . . . tempting her!

For you see, Roweena, had managed to pile on fifty-three pounds during the annual Glockenflockenfluff Fish Festival to the mighty chagrin of her mother-in-law, Tulip Aarff.

In fact, Tulip Aarff found Roweena Patina lacking discipline in every respect — both as a human being, in general, and as a daughter-in-law in particular.  Now, Tulip Aarff could add “fat” to her myriad list of Roweena Patina complaints.

For Tulip Aarff made it her hobby to find fault in the tiniest imperfections of her daughter-in-law’s personage.  And today, Tulip Aarff was about to hit the jackpot when it came to her favorite amusement.

When at last Roweena arrived at the double Dutch door of her mother-in-law’s cottage, she said a prayer for protection, then knocked.

“Enter this instant!” commanded Tulip Aarff.  “For the cold herring is getting warm and the warm tea is getting cold!”

When Roweena stepped inside with her shoeless foot, her disheveled apron and her bonnet hopelessly askew, Tulip Aarff gasped the Great Mother-in-Law Gasp of the Ages.

You’re late as usual! Tulip Aarff barked.

With a hollow smile and a sugary, sweet voice, Roweena said, “I’m only late, my dearest mother-in-law, because I was baking you this  “special” Hagleslagen Cuppencaken!

When Roweena finished her tea, she bid Tulip Aarff a cheerful adieu. A cheerful adieu that Tulip Aarff failed to acknowledge, however, what with her being dead from the poison and all.

Tulip Aarff just before biting the Hagleslagen Cuppencaken dust!

* * *

Until next time . . . I love you

4 thoughts on “Linda’s Bedtime Stories for Grown-up Children: The Cuppencaken

  1. Well, as they say, one person’s cuppencaken is another person’s poison. I had always wondered why they would say that, until you’ve cleared that up for me, Misty. I shall be eternally indebted to you, or at least until next Monday – I may have jury duty then. Would you accept beholden ? I also have some paper collars from the late 19th Century. Am I drifting off topic again, or am I drifting back on ?

  2. Mr Oftime, please accept my apologies (all 17 of them) for not answering this comment until many days later than it was sent. Anyway, I am so glad that I was able to clear up that old saying for you. (If I only had a nickel for every time I could clear up an old saying for someone such as I have done here I would be flat broke). I love the way you drift off topic I must say. You are one of the best off topic drifters I’ve ever known with the exception of myself. Thank you for coming by and I shall await your return from jury duty. I hope you’ll yell out, “I object” and “Sustained” at least twice for old times sake.

  3. How come you never hear any good father-in-law stories? Is it because we’re apathetic, or just pathetic? Or maybe just boring, I don’t know.

    I try to be vile, rude, and find fault with every single thing my kid’s spouses do, but my attempts pale in comparison to those of my wife. Sometimes I think they might actually like me–which is rather embarrassing. Do you think I’m a failure as a father-in-law? Any tips to help me correct this flaw?

    • You know what? You have a very good point! Why is it that you never hear of any horrible father-in-laws! Geez! If there aren’t any horrible father-in- law stories I think I’m definitely have to make one up! *rubbing hands together* Would you mind if I named him Russel? I’ll only use one ‘l’ so no one will ever think it’s you.

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