I can hear his alarm bleating upstairs. Followed by some sort of groan. Not sure if that was a fart (It probably was) The alarm’s off.
Alarm again. Louder groaning, complaining and cursing. LOTS of cursing. The alarm’s off again.
One more time. Come on dude…get out of bed. Minions gotta get to school, wife’s gotta hit the road and we got work to do.
He thunders down the stairs with the grace of an elephant that’s had one bourbon too many. Now the dogs are up. too If they could cross their hind legs while standing, I’m sure they would be right now. Back door open, dogs shamble out to work their magic on the lawn. Another fart. Could be the dogs, probably him.
Coffee cup in one hand, he opens my lid and presses the power button with the other. No hurry to boot quickly. He’s just going to sit on the couch and watch the news for an hour anyway. Yup. Minions grumping through their morning routine. Shower, brush, eat, clothes, backpacks, bus honks, last minute grabbing of homework, sports equipment, jackets, etc. Quick “Have a great day!” no hug this morning, down the steps, into the street, on the bus, off for some learnage.
Wife freshly showered, dressed and caffeinated. Quick kiss, “Have a great day!” out the door, off to the office.
He scratches. Today he showered and shaved. More farting (So very happy I don’t have a nose). He spins the mouse. Internet hums to life. He checks his email. He checks music sites for new releases. He checks book sales results. Not happy, he drinks more coffee. Sausage fingers hunt and peck.
Don’t do it man. You know you can’t handle it. Resist. Be strong. Power…Pooowwweeerrr. He stares at the screen, finger tapping on the mouse. The arrow blinking over the Favorites tab. Today, he’ll make it. He’ll stay away and go straight into our Projects folder and get it done first. It won’t be frustrating or stressful. It’ll be easy, breezy, beautiful… who am I kidding. Down the rabbit hole. Facebook. Crap.
He did it! He actually closed the Internet window! Holy Shazam! Wait…now he’s in the bathroom.
At least he turned the fan on this time. Now he’s getting something to eat. Ramen soup with an egg. Ahh…the delicious taste of poverty.
Netflix is on now. He’s sitting at the table, slurping noodles like a ravenous eagle digging up worms. If birds enjoy comic book movies?
Hot damn tamale! He’s opening the Projects folder. The file is on the desktop. He’s scrolling through. Sticky fingers are hunting and pecking. Thank god for Spellcheck. (I thought he went to college?) The story is happening. Characters are being realized. Action is occurring. The plot is…well…it’s doing something.
He’s in the kitchen again. Cabinets are slamming open and shut. More farting. Now a bowl of cereal. Then a banana. He stares at my screen. I don’t like it when he looks at me that way.
MANDATORY NAP TIME:
As regulated by the officially diagnosed illness
More words misspelled. Sections deleted under a blue murder of profanity. One character killed off. Too bad. I liked him. He had potential. Another one deleted completely. A new development taking the story in an unexpected direction. He stops typing. No! Don’t stop typing. Please? We need to keep going. We’re on a roll. We can finish this chapter if we just…
School bus brakes make a very distinctive howl. You know? Older minion is greeted and settled in. Snack made. Homework schedule checked. Tablet and headphones on. The occasional smile breaks through.
He’s back. That’s right…Facebook again. Dammit.
Project is finally open. He types one word. Two words. One paragraph. Two paragraphs…nope. Minion requires attention now.
A phrase punched into the notes document. Something to remember for tomorrow. His eyes glance at the project. I can see an idea twinkling behind the dark frames of his glasses. Fingers urgently seek for the right letters. It’s coming. It’s good. I like it. He actually likes…Younger minion is at the door. Baseball practice is over.
Greetings have been exchanged. Discussion underway regarding the quality of the school day experience and batting practice. Bruises are shown and homework is complained about. Humorous anecdotes are shared. Snacks are made and consumed. He is sitting on the couch with both minions watching television. There is some mention of girls. Some digging for dirt, but not enough to raise the teenage dragon of “Mind your own business!” He has gained much wisdom since he brought forth the “Stay out of my life!” Demon.
Email sent to wife regarding status of minion whereabouts. Another email with the subject line: Dinner- Call me when you’re leaving and we’ll start cooking.
Email response from wife: Okay. Sounds great!
Telephone rings. By the one half of the conversation overheard, tonight’s menu will consist of spaghetti with vodka sauce and chicken. If there are salad fixings in the fridge, they will be washed and tossed as well.
Wife is home. Minions are pleased. He is pleased. They congregate at the table to eat. Discussion consists of each individual daily adventures. School, work, writing, dogs, traffic, what’s on TV tonight?, etc.
Homework in progress. Math assistance provided by the wife. By now the minions know better than to ask him. History, English or Music is doable with his aid if necessary. But no number stuff. Even I know that.
7:15 – 9:00 PM
He’s on Facebook. Again. Some Twittering, Tumblr, more music and book websites. An idea or two are jotted down quickly before attention is required elsewhere for much more important TV goings on.
Minions are sent upstairs. Ah…school nights. Adult television programs can now be viewed freely. No. I don’t mean porn! (You’re so pervy.) He convinced wife to finally watch Daredevil. She convinced him to watch Shark Tank.
11:30 – 12:00 PM
He and She have fallen asleep on the couch. Again. A snore or fart (yet again) or barking dog woke one of them. They turn off lights, lock doors and let dogs outside again to do what they do. She goes upstairs while he corrals the animals and gives them night time snacks. He saves all open programs and closes them. He commences shutdown procedure. My lid closed, he thunks up the stairs. He farts. Again.