It Cost Too Much

As she shops for groceries, a mother tries to balance her family's wants with the reality of their tight budget.

Welcome to the 18th edition of This Nick Writes. A newsletter that delivers one creative work of prose in your inbox once a month.

I participated in a 500-word flash fiction writing competition two weekends ago, where we had to create and submit one story under 500 words in 48 hours while adhering to these prompts:

Genre: Drama

Object: Price Tag

Action: Ignoring a Phone Call

During the ideation process, I came up with two concepts and developed them both, thinking eventually, one would reveal itself as the stronger piece. However, I wrote and rewrote both to the point where I felt both stories were good, and I was left flipping a coin to decide which to submit.

Today, I’m sharing with you the story I did not submit to the competition - “It Cost Too Much”

How did I do with the prompts? Let me know in the comments. 

Made via prompting in MidJourney

$2.98 for two packs of generic butter.

$5.58 for two gallons of whole milk.

$4.99 for a bag of small Fuji apples, not as good as the large organic honey-crisp, but I’m not paying $10 for only four.

Price tags are always my enemy.

My phone rings. It's my husband, Roy, and I know exactly what he wants—STEAK, but it's not within the budget.

Malcolm wants to go to battle bot camp, and though this summer is out of the question, I want him to go next year. Leo’s diapers and cravings for berries are not cheap. Our truck’s alternator won’t get fixed until we fork over the $1000 to replace it, and our furnace is on its last legs.

So, no, Hunny, I don’t feel like arguing about it. 

I ignore his call and shove the phone back into my purse as I look over the groceries in my cart. There is about $130.00 worth of food in it, which doesn’t leave me much to stay under $150.00.

If the meat department has some discount family packs of chicken, and if I don’t buy frozen pizza, I can get two bags of Coco Roos. The boys will love that. 

But there is only one pack of family-value chicken, and it is thighs. Personally, thighs are my favorite, and my husband will eat anything labeled meat. The boys, well, they only ever want chicken breast. “Dark Meat” grosses them out.

It’s slimy! 

It doesn’t look right!

Yuck!

Someday, they’ll understand.

A package of 8 breasts of boneless chicken - $12.99. That means only one bag of Coco Roos this month. 

Someday, I’ll get a raise, or Roy will get a promotion. Then we won’t have to pinch pennies, and we can finally take the kids on a nice vacation out of state. 

Someday. 

At the register, I glare at the Reese Cup that I once remember costing less than 50¢. Today, it would put me over budget by a dollar—a single dollar. 

How did we get here? 

I hear a terrifying scream.

The shape of a man whose face is a mask walks into the store and points something at me. His entire body is covered in black. I hear a loud crack.

I collapse onto my cart. It slides out from under me. As I slither to the ground and look up—price tags of candy bars and magazines. 

Who even reads magazines anymore?

Loud bangs. My ears hurt. I smell gunpowder. A slick liquid has spilled on the floor. It soaks into my back and laces the tips of my fingers as I reach for…something. 

I wonder what I knocked over. I’ll apologize and offer to pay for it when I get back up. It's the right thing to do even if it puts me over budget.

There are more screams. I realize the liquid comes from me. I’m cold.

 I wonder…

How will they afford groceries?

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