Your sweaty-socked feet dangle over the lazy-Boy,
the tv a constant blare of video and comics,
notebooks and popcorn bowl scattered about,
so much tween-age detritus.
Please, take out the garbage.
Bart Simpson mocks Homer, then whizzes off
on a cartoon bicycle. A low grunt erupts from
behind the armchair, your foot swings back and forth.
The garbage. Now, please.
You reach for the phone, half ring; your voice
sounds an octave lower even as you crank back
the armchair, prostate to afternoon sun seeping
through the neglected jade and philodendron.
Son. Take out the garbage. Now.
A disgruntled sigh, the phone clatters on the endtable
beside the glass sweating cola rings on veneer.
FINAL WARNING – TAKE OUT THE GARBAGE!
The volume ratchets up, closing credits reel by,
arms and legs disappear behind the safety of corduroy.
A microsecond of silence.
Please, son, would you take out the garbage?
Sure, mom.
***
Prompt: 5 times
Peace, Linda
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Ah, Linda... I remember those days well. I suspect i will be doing that to my kid pretty soon. Another elegant post so very well presented.
ReplyDeleteSo true!
ReplyDeleteJai
I've heard of this type of thing.
ReplyDeletemine have learned I'm a 3 timer and after that the garbage will be in their bed. It only took once :-)
BTW I have now sent on the last of the missing 3...Tony's holding :-)
ah..so this is why I don't have kids..
ReplyDeleteThese days aren't too far off for me. Right now it's "Honey, please clean up your room."
ReplyDeleteThe first stanza sets the scene perfectly.
Five strikes?
ReplyDeleteI kind of like Paige's approach, but dumping garbage in my 3 year old's room would probably be an improvement to the Barbies-Mermaids-Princesses floor decor.
--John
Thanks all! Oh believe me, Will gets 3 strikes, but the prompt, ya know...
ReplyDelete