(flangi -one’s spirit or fortitude Propped – support, egged on Flangipropped = to life one’s spirit, spur on, motivate)
Grammy Rymiller was mad. Papa Rymiller had told her he was watering her flowers every day she was gone taking care of emergency family matters. Granted he had had a lot to do while she was gone. But her flowers deserved priority and he said he was doing it! Then what does she find? A flower pot all hard and dried up. She was going to show him what a lousy job he had done. Carrying the pot, she started inside to give him a good flangipropping—telling him to get his flanges off that couch and help her do the watering.
She had to think how to be a bit subtle with her flangipropping because an outright flangipropping would never work. Grammy’s focus was on the pot and the flangipropping she would administer when suddenly she tripped over the crack in the walk; the pot went sailing and Grammy, arms out with hands gripping nothing, sprawled mostly right side down on the walk. Glasses thrown off, skinned knee and shoulder, she hurt but the hurt was minor compared to the mad. Screaming for help accomplished nothing; she found that if she just screamed without trying to say a word, she would be louder. But still it accomplished nothing.
She lay there realizing a cell phone or medic alert button might be good things to look into now that she was in her eighties. Maybe the kids would think to buy something sometime before she got old. She calmed down, checked her wounds, picked up her glasses, fitted the lens back into the frame, pushed herself up on her knees, said, “Thank you, Jesus, for no broken bones,” and repented for having gotten so mad in the first place. After all, she knew that was the reason she fell so carelessly. So feeling humbled, she hobbled to the door. It was locked. After pounding a sufficient time to bruise her fists, Papa Rymiller got off the couch let her in.
“Do you need something?” He asked.
“I needed my flangi propped up,” she wailed. “I screamed and screamed, but you didn’t hear.”
“Oh, I heard you,” he replied, “I just thought you would come in if you needed something.”
Now both hurt and mad, she exerted a mammoth amount of strength to march to the bedroom, slam the door, sit in her corner, and wail loudly between her moans and groans. After a time…listen, the TV is still on, he’s back on the couch. Oh, how that man needs a good flangipropping! But Grammy was tired. She decided to lie down and rest a bit. A bit of sleep might do some good….
Well, all’s well that ends well! You know how it goes—”Sorry, honey.” “That’s okay.” “Sorry I failed to help.” “That’s okay.” “I really should have come to check.” “That’s okay” “Sorry I didn’t pay attention.” “That’s okay.” “Love you, Sweetheart.” “Love you too, Sugar.”
It wasn’t until later that Grammy realized she had been flangipropped by that man again!
Moral of the story: Long marriages are due to one partner being so good at flangipropping, and the other never getting around to it!
……………………..Any similarities between Grammy and Papa Rymiller and Oneta and Sam Hayes is absolutely intentional based on a real event – only slightly exaggerated (Well maybe a little more than slightly.) ……………………
(written in response to using the made-up word “flangipropped,” and egged (urged) on by jacquelineobyikoc in http://acookingpotandtwistedtales.com/2015/10/03/his-flanges-got-propped-a-short-story/comment-page-1/#comment-3925)
Sweet aroma 
I absolutely love this. Such a real life situation. We may have successfully managed to make Flangiprop an official word. A lot of spouses do need flangipropping now and again 😆😃
Hey, Jacqueline, thanks for giving me courage to give it a try. I had a lot of fun writing it. We may have some more encounters with Grammy and Papa Rymiller in the future. When I first posted I didn’t have your link underlined but it is now; hope it will send other readers to you. However, most people who read me have already read you so maybe not many. And you are right; most spouses occasionally need a negative or positive flangipropping..
Loved the story. 🙂
Fun to do. Thanks for the response. No matter how hard we try to not pay attention when we don’t get comments – we still pay attention. It takes comments to “flangiprop” us!
Indeed! 🙂
Funny! Thanks for the chuckle!
Thank for the “flangipropping” via your comment.
You’re welcome!
I am impressed and amazed by what you write with the prompts of writing buddies etc. Fun and a great story. ‘Flangipropping’ who’d have thought it could be so appropriate.
Thanks very much, Faye. You have definitely flangipropped me! I will arise and make some supper – or is it dinner in your part of the country? It has to be supper; who ever heard of fried potatoes and onions for dinner! Dinner demands baked potatoes and leave off the onions because of the smell. Just proving I know the difference between dinner and supper. A discussion of dinner and lunch will have to wait. I haven’t read you yet today but I’m at my e-mail so I’ll probably see you soon.
Flangi-propped to make a post. Oneta, you are amazing. What vivid descriptions! Loved it.
Your kind words make me feel flangipropped by an extra-ordinary flangipropper. Translation = Your kind words make be feel encouraged by an extra-ordinary encourager.
Thank you Oneta, I’m flangipropped again! Flangipropped Squared!
Love it!
Thanks, Pam, for those most wonderful “flangipropping” words. And welcome to my space. I see you in so many of my favorite places.
This really was amusing. Not only that, it reminded me of the time my mother locked me out of her apartment. On Easter.After making me take all the chocolate back home. Oh, my goodness — what lives we do lead! I’ll be anxious to see if your characters come back for an encore. Whether I’ll ever get around to telling that Easter story, I’m not sure. Maybe….
You’ve said too much to fail me now. You must tell. In many of your posts you tie in simple stories with studious content. Surely you can do it! Try tying your story to the Easter Bunny – surely you can make that into the literary market! Perhaps you can tell us why Van Goth never painted the Easter Bunny. Well, you always come up with plenty of ideas that amuse me. Just give me the story of a mom who locked her daughter out! Must tell. And I’m glad you enjoyed meeting Grammy and Papa Rymiller. I’m considering bring them back.
It’s funny! You took the prompt challenge promptly!
Have a wonderful week ahead.
Love and light ❤
Anand 🙂
Oneta, just letting you know that I sent you an email.