Back at the shack

“You’re back already?” Mrs Hoff said as her son reappeared in the doorway. She was bent over, on the floor, her ass up in the air as she had been busy scrubbing the floor. Jack regarded his mother’s presented backside, considered rolling up that dress of hers to make himself feel better, but just went to sit on the bed instead. He stared at the lonely, near burnt down candle on the table, the only other piece of furniture of their little home. “How much did you get?” his mother asked, sitting down next to him and folding the washing rag in her lap.

Jack felt ashamed, which for a literal mother fucker like him was a rare event. He didn’t say anything, just fished the handful of beans from his pocket and presented them to his mother. She tilted her head, staring at the dozen or so legumes in confusion. “What is this?”

“Magic beans,” Jack said finally. It sounded funnier in his head, but when he said it out loud nobody in the room got the joke. Not even him. His mother picked one of them up and carefully studied the completely unremarkable, normal bean. She could only stare at her son uncomprehendingly.

“A woman traded them to me,” he said. “For the cow.”

“What?”

Jack stood with a sigh, the beans in his fist feeling like gravel inside his boot.

“I traded the cow for a handful of magic beans,” he repeated. The complete seriousness in Jack’s face made his mother realise that this was not joke. She didn’t understand how exactly, but he had been swindled. Incredibly stupidly. Magic beans?

She looked at the bean she held in her fingers, anger rising in her.

“Magic beans?” she shouted, throwing the thing across the room, which wasn’t very far so it bounced off the wall and fell onto the bed somewhere. “How could you be so stupid?” she demanded, almost feeling unfamiliar with this rage since she hadn’t yelled at her son properly in such a long time.

“I need some more pussy,” Jack said and he reached over to pull up his mother’s dress, but she wasn’t having it.

“No!” she cried, shoving him away. He went at her again, Jack not really sure what he was wanting to do… he just felt like he needed … well he really just needed a hug but his perceptions had been screwed up by an all too receptive mother as of late.

“Just give me the-” he started, then groaned, curling up into a ball and flopping onto the floor of the shack. Mrs Hoff had kicked her son square in the nuts.

“You think about what you did!’ she shouted, watching Jack squirm on the ground with a degree of satisfaction. Jack could only groan in response, his ears ringing, but in the back of his mind he felt like this was something he really deserved. He looked up through tear blurred vision and watched his mother pick up the bucket of water she had been cleaning with and storm out of the shack. He’d be curled up for a few minutes, contemplating his situation, reminded of his aching balls every few seconds, but appreciating the cleanliness of the floor.