Normally grumpy, Lars arrived at his Mother's house with a big grin on his face. In fact, he was smiling more broadly that a boa that had just swallowed a whole nest of mice. And this made his Mother Agnes worried.
"What's up, dear?" Agnes quietly said. "You remember the money I fronted you for the repairs to the house, including the new roof and furnace?" Lars asked. "And that you signed a paper on terms of repayment? If you'll read these clauses, you'll note that you put the house up as collateral should you be unable to pay. And that I am permitted to call in the loan in full should I deem it necessary. Well, I'm calling in the loan. If you cannot pay, I'm afraid I'll have to put the house up for sale, and you'll have to move out."
Agnes was stunned. "But, Lars. This is the house you grew up in. The family home. How can you ever think of selling it?" she emphasized. But Lars didn't reply. Better his Mother not know that a redeveloper wanted to buy every home on the block to make way for some high-rise condos. And that he was offering more than the going rate for such old wood-frame buildings.
Saddened, Agnes invited Lars to have one final meal at the old kitchen table. Never one to pass up a freebie, Lars accepted. And he was treated to a new dish Agnes said she got from a cooking show viewed on DirecTV. It was a chicken and pork stew with an incredibly tasty sauce. Lars took a second helping, but he couldn't understand why his Mother never touched what was on her plate.
"I'm disappointed in you, Lars," Agnes said. "I'd think you'd want to keep the old family homestead in the family. Who knows when you might need to move in with your Mother again," she added. But Lars just snickered. "Remember, Lars, I brought you into this world, and I can take you back," Agnes added. "You mean, take me out," Lars sneered at what he imagined to be an impotent threat. "No, Lars, take you back," Agnes insisted.
Suddenly, Lars' body felt a jolt; one that ended with his plate and the table seeming to rise toward him. As Lars puzzled over this strange feeling, his body was hit by another jolt, then a third, a fourth and fifth; each apparently moving the table upward, until Lars was looking directly into its edge. He lifted his arm and was shocked to see the sleeves of his shirt covering his hands. Pulling the sleeves up, Lars saw very tiny hands, clutching a now larger looking fork. "What's happening?" Lars whimpered. "It's the sauce," Agnes smiled as she watched Lars hit by several more jolts.
Agnes pulled Lars from his now huge clothing. "I told you I could take you back. All the way back to when I first brought you into this world," she grinned. Lars' attempts to wiggle out of Agnes' grip was cut short by a strategic smack to his rear. She then carried him to his old bedroom, placed him on his bed, and opened a trunk, from which she pulled some of his old baby clothes. No longer a man of 30, Lars was having trouble maneuvering his now 6-month-old body, so he barely got to the edge of the bed when Agnes returned and quickly dressed him for his second infancy.
Carrying him back to the kitchen, Agnes lifted a baby bottle
from a saucepan on the stove. "See, I told you that you might
one day need to move back with you Mother," she noted as
she tried to plunge the nipple into Lars' most uncooperative mouth.
As she worked to restrain her twitching baby, Agnes chuckled.
"I heard about the offer for the house. But I wouldn't sell.
And now you cannot sell it either. Looks like in taking you back,
I also took you out of your plot against me," she added before
letting out with a very audible laugh. "I guess I actually
served you take-out food," Agnes guffawed at Lars, who in
no mood for puns as he struggled mightily not to have to wash
that meal down with Enfamil.