It was not quite half past twelve when Grandpa carried his lunchbox to the fallen log. He liked to take his lunch there; it was cool with filtered sunlight and a view of the pond. He leaned his walking stick next to him and took off his work boots and socks. He let the long green grasses tickle the soles of his bare feet.
Grandma had packed his lunch, as usual. He never knew what she was going to send, but he loved the thrill of finding out. He could tell a lot about her mood by what she sent him for lunch. He pulled the thermos out first and clamped it between his knees. He figured it was just water but he was hoping for lemonade and would be over the moon happy if it was filled with coffee. Grandpa liked his coffee black, no sugar. He was a no-nonsense guy. He decided to see what else was in the box before he opened the thermos.
A sandwich wrapped in wax paper with an elastic band holding it in place was the next thing he pulled from the old metal container. He undid the wrapping and took a look. Looked like the bread that she had baked night before last. It was cut in half from corner to corner, just the way he liked it and a thick slab of roast beef with plenty of mustard, tomato, pickles, and lettuce, dressed it up so that it looked good enough to eat. The roast beef must have been left over from last Sunday’s lunch, saved special for him. He needed to remember to give Myrtle a kiss as a thank you for this sandwich. She must have snuck this slab of beef from the table early, because the parson came for lunch after church last weekend and he usually finished off everything that was on the table. Grandpa shook his head and smiled; his wife, Myrtle, was a crafty one.
He dug a little deeper and pulled out a wedge of apple pie wrapped in newspaper. This was going to be a great lunch. With unbridled enthusiasm he pulled his kerchief from his pocket and spread it on his lap. He thought a big slug of lemonade or a cup of coffee sounded good so he unscrewed the cup from the top of the thermos and pulled out the cork from the top. He held it up to his nose hoping for the aroma of hot coffee but got the smell of something fishy instead. He tipped the thermos and curiously watched what poured into the cup.
“Damn, it’s turtle soup. Where the hell did that come from?” They hadn’t had turtle soup in over three months. Grandpa loved turtle soup.
As he ate he wondered, “What’s Myrtle up to? Why the great lunch? All of my favorites?” Usually he had to settle for store-bought white bread and a single slice of bologna or pimento loaf. His thermos was usually filled with tap water and ever since the city had put them on the water service and capped the well the water didn’t taste as good as it used to.
“Maybe, she’s feeling frisky or, she might have bought something. Oh well,” he thought, “if she bought something and it netted him a lunch this good, she deserved it!” He slipped his teeth from the pocket of his overalls into his mouth and took a big bite outta that sandwich. He might have time for a short nap here after he finished eating. Just a short one though. Still had a lot of work to get done today
So happy to get to write a story for the first ever cubing the story prompt! Thanks April.