Mr. Rempel

“I’ve heard enough,” Jill snapped. She grabbed Chelsea’s wrist. It was like grabbing a rag doll.

“No more Mr. Rempel, honey.”

She hustled her daughter into the car. They rode home in silence.

The next morning, she begged off a few days from work. She stayed home with Chelsea, resolving to act quickly. She spent three hours Friday night on the Internet. By the next morning, she had reached a decision.

“Honey,” she said sweetly as Chelsea dug through a stack of waffles, “I’ve got great news. You’re going to summer camp.”

Her daughter gave her a blank look.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)