28 march 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2689: belly fat

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“So, do you feel that you would have a deeper laugh if you were big like Santa Claus?”

Sweet, trusting seven-year-old Amanda Ludlow had no idea … she had heard her grandfather laughing their big cousin Astor Ludlow to scorn but had no idea this was just not Capt. Ludlow tickling their cousin with his big voice like he often made her laugh.

“I mean, I notice that a lot of big opera stars have big, round bellies, and that seems to help them have big, round voices. Now, I'm not saying you need that because your voice is plenty big enough, but, you could maybe eat more and cut back on some of this working out, because you just have no belly fat to work with, Papa. Cousin Harry has this problem as a tenor – he could probably sing higher notes if he looked more like the Pillsbury dough boy – because, see, a shave and like twenty pounds, and he's got this.”

Capt. Ludlow reached down and picked Amanda up with a huge smile.

“Let's see what our singing teacher Col. F.V. Wozniak has to say about that when you all have your virtual lesson today.”

“OK!”

Meanwhile, Amanda's six-year-old little brother Grayson was quietly listening, and had noticed that the Lego pile he had been putting to the side for a project had fallen over when his grandfather had hit his lowest notes.

“Grandma,” he said when he went to the kitchen, “aren't earthquakes really big sound?”

“Almost,” Mrs. Ludlow said. “Earthquakes produce really big sound when the ground shifts.”

“But if you were close to where earthquakes happen, could you start one with really big sound?”

Mrs. Ludlow had to stop and consider this.

“We need to actually look that up,” she said. “I mean, if, say an avalanche or rockslide was just about to start, a big sound can start that, but earthquake faults, where different plates and part of the earth rub against each other, are really deep down.”

“But what about the San Andreas Fault near San Francisco?” Grayson said. “We can actually go see that, and it's not that deep.”

“Wow, Grayson, your memory … well, let's say the fault was just about to move anyway … maybe.”

“OK. I was just thinking about how to build stuff safe, and what I gotta look out for.”

Grayson went and took a piece of paper and wrote some stuff down, and then looked at it and sighed and went to find his big siblings ten-year-old Andrew and eleven-year-old Eleanor, who by that time were hanging out with their friend Velma Trent on their porch.

“I don't know if we have a problem but we might,” he said. “Ellie, can you look up where the fault lines are in this area on your phone?”

“There are a few – every so often the Appalachians do have big earthquakes and nobody is ever ready,” Eleanor said.

“Right, so, I need a map for when I'm big,” Grayson said. “We gotta have earthquake-safe stuff here like we do in San Francisco, just in case, and because just in case is happening now. Amanda is trying to get Papa to put on weight so he looks like a big opera star so his voice can be lower and deeper.”

Andrew's eyes went wide, and then he gave a huge sigh.

“You know, you read about the end of the world,” he said as he laced up his shoes carefully, “and then you read that somebody almost accidentally did it early and you read that somebody has gotta put it all on the line to get the schedule back on track. Y'all can't get the hero you want or deserve because it's just me, but somebody has got to do it … .”

And then he showed off the ten-year-old version of the immense voice he too would inherit from his grandfather as he went running across the yard.

“AMANDA! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” Eleanor and Grayson echoed as they went running, not knowing any better, and figuring that if calm Andrew was flipping out, it was indeed the end of the world.

Eight-year-old Gracie Trent and nine-year-old Milton Trent came out to see what was going on, and just settled into following their sister Velma in shaking their heads as the entire Ludlow family came together in a panic on the lawn as part of the process of figuring all this out.

“You know,” Velma said as her parents, Stepforth grandparents, big sister Vanna (17), big brother Melvin (21), and nine-year-old cousin Vertran Stepforth came out on the porch, “we've had our problems – parents divorced, grandparents divorced – but we tend to get it together pretty good. Parents remarried, grandparents remarried, Tom not killed for blowing up his own kitchen, Vertran being allowed to be the grand-mogul he is and nobody saying he can't because he's just nine. But the Ludlows? I love them, but they are crazy!”

“Ain't it the truth,” Gracie said.

“That's why Dad and Bruh Melvin keeps the guns loaded and themselves in training,” Milton said, “and don't mess with Vanna or Mom either, because they train too.”

“I mean, if Melvin hasn't destroyed the world with those bass subwoofers he used to be blasting in New York, I really don't see why the Ludlows are worried,” Velma said.

“Hey!” Melvin said. “They weren't that bad, were they?”

“Yeah,” his whole family said.

“We used to know when you were coming home from high school the minute you started your car,” Mrs. Melissa Trent said. “But hey: the good thing is, you grew out of that and we already survived, so, we don't need to worry.”