“It’s a Flingahrung. Duh.”
She scrutinised the mass of screwed up newspaper, bent chicken wire, flaking acrylic paint and globs of PVA glue. “What does it do?”
He ran his grubby fingers through his hair, coiffing it into an electrified bird’s nest. “Don’t you know anything?”
“Indulge your old mother.”
He sighed. “It changes the weather. Look.” He pointed at his laptop. “It’ll start snowing in 15 seconds.”
“Gosh. Your imagination is really something.”
He shot her a dirty look. “It’s not pretend this time.”
She smiled and ruffled his hair. When she looked up, the first snowflakes were falling.
This story was written in response to Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers photo prompt.
You can find more stories inspired by the prompt, or add your own, here.