I might be posting more of this one but here it is for now!
Man child.
(809 words)
"I set the alarm I swear!" I protested in a shocked and tired voice as my mom threw the lights on and blinded me. "I know! I woke up to the sound of that horrid beeping At least two hours ago! GET UP" I clung to the comforter for dear life as she yanked it from my bed, my nails digging into my plans with the force of ten steel nails. "You have ten minuets to get up or I'm turning off the heat! And then.." her voice got deadly quiet "The WiFi."
So after I heard her stomping down the stairs in a huff, I rolled over and looked at the digital clock, glowingly announcing that it was ten in the morning and I had overslept at least two hours. I groaned and used all of my willpower to throw the sheets away from my already freezing body. I glance at the clock again, muttering "Ten minuets? I can be ready in ten minutes."
I raced down the hall and slid the rest of the way in my socks, down to the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and ran my fingers through my hair, spiking it up into sort of a Mohawk, and considered shaving. "Nah, you look tough dude." I know, that sounded weird but whatever I'm 28, I can do whatever I want.
I mosied down the stairs and smelled coffee. Weird, I usually have to make my own coffee. Mom must have finally realized what being a mother means. I slicked into the dining room and pulled out a chair at the end of the table, tilting it back until my feet were rested on the table. I sighed and enjoyed the warm smell of coffee as it washed over me, savoring the silence of the dining room as my mother bustled in the kitchen just as it was supposed to be.
My illusion of perfection was shattered by the sudden "GET,your feet off the table." from my father, who seemed to hate happiness and relaxation, things that go together quiet well in my book. I sighed in annoyance and dropped my feet to the cold tiled floor and squeaked the chair towards the table, while my father took the chair opposite of me. A stern look was frozen on his face, but that's how it always looked because dad was a big business man of some sort. I stared at the wall behind him until my mother came and practically slammed my coffee down in front of me. I jumped back as a couple of drops of hot coffee sloshed into my lap and soaked into my pants. "Mooom." I groaned as I grabbed a paper towel from the middle of the table. "Sorry, sweetie." She muttered under her breath as she passed dad his cup. As I took a sip from my scalding coffee, my mother pulled up a chair next to dad. "Charles, we need to talk." Dad stated.
"About?
"Well, about you."
My mother just sat silently, wringing her hands together. I looked at my dad with confusion.
"what about me?"
My mind was racing with possible things that they had found, what they had heard.
"About how you don't seem to have any direction, or motivation. I mean look at yourself!" My father pointed at my 3 Doors Down t-shirt and the slight bulge of a stomach beneath it.
"So? It's been..cold." Totally true, since we lived in slightly cold place known as Canada. "That didn't stop your uncle from running EVERYDAY UNTIL HE DIED!" My mother finally started on a ballistic rant, pushing her chair away from the table like she was going to make a speech. "You are a GROWN MAN! You should be AT THE VERY LEAST looking for a job!! I should NOT have to come and wake you up at TEN when your alarm is very clearly set for EIGHT! And why do I even bother? All you do is sit around and tapity tap on your compute!" she imitated me on a computer and then I had had enough, also getting to my feet. "But you're supposed to do that! You're my mother for god sakes! We had an agreement that you would take care of me until I moved out! and guess what! I'm still here!" My dad, who had been sitting silently watching this whole thing, suddenly spoke. "You aren't here anymore." I stared at him. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You have until Monday to find a job, and then until next Saturday to find a place to live. Now I've already set up some interviews..."
"THIS IS BULLSHIT." I shouted, pounding my fist on the table.
"You will NOT TALK THAT WAY IN MY HOUSE." Dad was on his feet now too, staring me down.
"You have until Monday."
__________________________________________________________________________________
So yes that was weird but I swear there is a plot.
-Jessica Baker-
No comments:
Post a Comment