‘Fish again?’ The child turned his nose up, disgust writ large on his fat-cheeked face.
Maree dolloped a small serving of mashed potato on to the plate held out in hope of a more acceptable offering than a slice of poached fish . ‘Good for your brain,’ she told the boy. ‘Peas or salad?’
‘Yuck, salad.’ The plate wavered, remained optimistically outstretched . The pudgy nose crinkled its challenge.
In her years as a dinner lady, Maree had witnessed many upturned noses. She had considered herself immune. This one, however, riled her. The nose in its fat-cheeked face belonged to a well-padded body. Maree glanced along the queue and was unable to suppress a huff at the sight of similarly proportioned sugar-craving youngsters, already scowling at the offerings.
‘Why can’t we have burgers and chips like we used to?’ The question came from the child next to the fish despiser.
Maree shook her head. How many times had she been asked this question? ‘Because,’ she said with a cool tartness, ‘the grownups have decided burgers and chips don’t feed your young brains – and bodies – as well as fish and salad does.’
‘Or chicken and salad,’ a girl called from further up the line. She brandished her plate, a knowing smile beaming from her peaches and cream, glowing, sharp-cheeked face.
Fish despiser offered chicken girl a sneer. ‘Chicken’s okay if it’s in nuggets,’ he said with the loftiness of one who knew all wisdom.
The other children giggled.
‘We have fish at home, from the fish and chip shop,’ the burger lover declared. ‘With chips.’ He glared at Maree. ‘No salad.’
‘See,’ non-battered fish despiser pointed out. ‘Not all grownups think what you said.’
Maree raised her eyebrows. Therein lay the nub of the matter, of course. All very well for the school governors to lay down the food law, but if there was no support at home? What then? She shrugged. ‘What’s it to be? Peas?’
The boy sighed with an exaggeration which foretold his future as an actor. ‘Guess so.’
Maree served the peas, turned to the next child. ‘Fish or vegetable lasagna?’
And so it went on until each child had a plate of good-for-their-brains (and bodies) food. Maree covered the scant remains in their warming dishes, wiped her hands on a clean towel and walked into the kitchen. Now for her own lunch. Serving all that food had made her ravenous.
She delved into her tote bag and hauled out a plastic container. Ripping off the lid she brought the container close to her face, and sniffed the tantalising contents, long, and slowly. Relishing the moment, keen to banish the odour of fish and vegetables, Maree fetched a fork (manners are important) and thrust it into the plastic bowl.
Out came a large portion of the treasured offering. She held the fork briefly, eyes alight, and with a grateful sigh, stuffed the chocolate cake into her generous mouth.
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Find Cheryl’s flash fiction and short stories, including audio versions of some, here!
Pollution of our rivers is always a problem – although they are trying to clean up the Yarra and Maribyrnong Rivers as much as possible. The future doesn’t look all that rosy when you consider that just having renewable energy sources will not be enough to meet power demands throughout the globe. Mind you, if we don’t act now the Earth may struggle to provide for future generations. I don’t envy my grandkids having to deal with all this, that’s for sure. Nice to know you and I are on the same wavelength regarding fishy stories LOL
FISH SUPPRESS COOL
The fish made its way steadily upstream, fighting gamely against the current. Instinct, born of many previous generations, had told him now was the time to migrate to the water’s source in order to fertilise the eggs he knew would laid in their hundreds by his mate.
The trout battled gamely, when an overpowering urge to swim more easily downstream beckoned.
Fighting every inch of the way, he suppressed the feeling and pointed his snout in the direction his hormones were telling him to go.
Onwards, upwards – the torrent constantly pushing him back from whence he had come, the cool, refreshing water acting as a panacea.
“I’m determined to reach my goal,” fishy thoughts pervaded his somewhat limited fishy brain, driven largely by his super active libido.
Once more, he turned his head into the current, tail waggling furiously to propel him forward up and over the impeding rapids.
With great effort, he managed to negotiate the turbulence – only to be confronted by a second and even greater obstacle, a massive log blocking the stream.
The trout swam around, his lips tasting, smelling, investigating this new hazard. Surely, I can beat this, he thought. I know, a flying leap unlike any I have ever attempted before is what’s needed.
He allowed the current to take his body a little downstream before, propelling his tail into an absolute frenzy, he flew at the log.
Up, up…and over he went, soaring ten feet in the air before landing on the other side of the fallen timber.
Uh huh, success. The trout swam gleefully around before once more continuing his journey. Another rapid, another massive effort, and he found himself in calmer waters.
And there was his mate, swimming lazily, with an occasional flick of the tail, welcoming him with open fins, so to speak.
The two lovers danced that perennial waltz that defines the ages before settling down to make lots of fishy new babies.
limited fishy brain, LOL …
I have a short story on a similar theme, unpublished, about salmon migrating up the River Wye, which is currently in a very bad state due to pollution from chicken farms. All a total scandal and very very sad as this is in an AONB area to boot.
Talk about what’s good for the goose is totally ignored by the gander LOL
Indeed!