Celeste eyed her mother as the silence between her and Wilfred started to feel uncomfortable.

"He ain't suddenly turned deaf now, is he?" Celeste quipped, "or are you just a NANCE?" – she shot her face up close to his – "Like I knew you were."

"BOO!" Celeste chuckled to her heart's content when she saw Wilfred's eyes blinking. Turning her back, she walked away triumphantly, ignoring her mother's angry glare.

"His mother had to be quite the lonely and wretched woman for choosing to love and raise such a child." Celeste called out as an after-sneer without looking back, "He's pathetic!"
Right at that moment, when Celeste had barely finished that sentence, a beastly rage welled up within Wilfred – punching him into action.

Hearing Wilfred's marching footsteps approaching, Celeste spun around, surprised. Her look of confusion churned into a stare of utter shock when she saw Wilfred steamrolling his way up to her – seething eyes and flaring nostrils included.
Out of instinct, she took a step back, squeezed her eyes half shut, and defensively rose her hands as it looked like he was about to bulldoze through her.
Wilfred stopped merely a few inches in front of her, "Don't you EVER talk about my mother again!" he spat while pointing a trembling finger in Celeste's face. "EVER!" he added to make sure his message was loud and clearly imprinted in her head.

Celeste stared back at him – totally numb – her eyes drifted off towards her mother's, desperately in search of aid.
Her mother seemed to take no notice of Celeste's plea for help as she was simply staring at her husband, all flabbergasted.
After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Celeste broke it by saying, "Whatever." Before walking off. A large, expensive Chinese vase ended up in hundred pieces on the floor when Celeste simply smashed her hand against it before bouncing up on the stairs to her bedroom.

Seeing his incredibly pretty stepdaughter rushing off like that after his fiery scold gave him a pleasant boost of his ego. It felt like a grand victory to him. He relaxed his face and looked over to his wife. A smile crept upon his countenance as his eyes met hers. He expected her to answer him with a smile in return, but his guess came a cropper as she greeted him with a loud, frustrated groan instead before walking off.
Wilfred looked after his wife with a puzzled look as she walked up the stairs. He heard some shouting – back and forth – upstairs and doors slamming open and close. He was almost sure he heard the terms' jerk' and 'mental institute' being screeched by Celeste's strident voice. It went on for some time. He did not dare to mingle in, so he grabbed another beer from the fridge instead and slumped down at the dining table – leafing through some woman's magazine to wait it all out.

"Why are you angry with me?" Wilfred asked as he sat down on the bed next to Emma. The lights were out in their bedroom, and his wife was already lying in bed. The squabble between her and Celeste had taken half the evening. When all was done, Emma came down, grabbed a plate of food, and vanished upstairs again – all, without granting Wilfred the time of the day.

"Angry?... ugh… Fred, please, can't this wait until tomorrow? I have an action review meeting to lead in the morning and I've just survived a two-hour long argument with my teenage daughter."

"Okay… okay… I'm sorry," Wilfred snuggled behind Emma under the blanket. "Just tell me what you two talked about, please."

Emma sighed, knowing that Wilfred would not let it rest. She rolled over and looked him in the eyes. "I made her agree to offer her apology to you for the insult on your mother."

Wilfred nodded approvingly, "Good. That's good, hon,"

"I'm not finished yet," his wife said. "You, on your turn, have to apologize for your aggressive behavior and–"

"Aggressive what?" Wilfred interrupted in disbelief.

"AND," Emma took up her line again, "you have to pay for the Chinese vase she'd shattered."

"I have to pay for the vase?!" Wilfred chuckled. "Where is the justice in that? Please, enlighten me because I don't see it."

"Aw, come on, Fred. That vase is just a petty thing to you."

"That petty thing was nearly two grand!"

"So what? You earn more money than you can spend." Emma replied. "At least, that's what you always boast about."

"That's not the point. I did not break it, did I?"

"Not directly, no."

"What do you mean by that?" Wilfred narrowed his eyes.

"Your reaction was over the line and you know it. The girl was terrified."

"So you are angry with me then?" Wilfred said.

Emma sighed, "I'm not… listen, you two barely speak to each other for years, and then this? Can you imagine what it's like for me? Caught up in the middle as a mother and as a lover?"

Wilfred remained silent for a while, gave a long sigh and responded, "I will apologize to her and pay the vase."

"Thank you," Emma said.

"But only for you."

"That's all I'm asking."

"And because I earn more money than I can spend," Wilfred added with a smile.

Emma smiled in return, "Come here you."

Wilfred groaned with frustration as his car refused to start after a long day at work. He wanted to go home, but the thing kept merely stuttering like a high-hearted student suffering from a bad case of dysphemia. Turning the key, he took another attempt. And another. And another.
"Blessed virgin Mary, rub my back," Wilfred shouted out in joy when his car finally did what it was supposed to do. Tapping the pedal with his foot, he was pleased to hear his engine running smoothly like a merry-go-round on a funfair during early spring.
He was about to hit the gas when it felt like his stomach made a sudden freefall in the direction of his butt. His purview became a blur as he and his car were rising, higher and higher. As the ascending sensation ceased to a halt, Wilfred opened the door, got out and plunged down on his knees to orientate himself after this nauseating experience.
He leaped up when he heard a girlish chuckle. Rubbing his eyes in disbelief, Wilfred gasped and craned his neck to look up at a smiling young girl's enormous face looking down upon him.

Celeste? He thought.

Her countenance was even bigger and wider than the most promising screen of a luxurious cinema. The corner of her dazzling lips stretched broader – revealing even more of the gleaming white surface of her perfect teeth – when Wilfred looked around, terrified, as he realized he was standing on de palm of her hand.
"You have been very, very naughty. Haven't you, mister?" Celeste said. She began to laugh as she slowly began to close her tree trunk-sized fingers into a fist – capturing Wilfred and his shrunken car in total darkness.
Wilfred sat up straight in bed with a loud gasp. Feeling all clingy with sweat, Wilfred saw that his wife was still sleeping next to him. She breathed in and out with long and peaceful streams.
As he stood up to go to the bathroom for a midnight pee, he felt his engorged member tenting his pants.

Blasted Celeste. I have to finish that when I get back to bed.

Slinking through the hallway, Wilfred had to pass Celeste's room before reaching the toilet. He noticed that her door was ajar, and he heard whispers.

Did that Greg sneaked through the window or something?

Curiosity got the best of him as he prowled closer, trying to take a peek.
He saw Celeste's figure sitting on her bed, darkly silhouetted.
"It worked! It worked! Look at you!" he heard Celeste's voice whispering, all giddy with excitement. Wilfred frowned as he thought he could see an incredibly tiny figure standing in the palm of her hand, waving its matchstick-like arms.