If you dropped in to read about the most scathingly brilliant idea I had yesterday, you will be sorely disappointed. This one might be better termed an everyday fairly average thought. Because, you see, I was saddled with Genius all day. Genius no longer in pain. Genius no longer on meds. An intractable version of medicated Genius. Which means I was his personal activities director, like Julie McCoy on the Love Boat.
Of course, the activities cannot start until Genius decides he has garnered the maximum hourage of beauty sleep. So at 9:00 a.m., my unofficial shift began. I had taken The Pony to summer school, turned in Genius's hours of tutoring for the A+ program to his counselor, raided my classroom cabinet for Hick's Father's Day gift, stopped to pick up my fake check stubs for the summer, gassed up my large SUV, shopped for soft foods for the delicate palate of Genius, popped in for a much-needed refill of 44 oz. Diet Coke, put away all of my purchases that Genius turned up his non-Nasonexed nose at, and called his oral surgeon to ask WHEN his stitches would dissolve. Yeah. I'm a one-woman U.S. Army. I do more before 9:00 a.m. than most people do all day.
Then the real Genius came out. He shoved a sheaf of papers from Missouri Boys' State under my nose. "Look! Look at my schedule! I'm going to be busy."
"Yes, you are. That's nice. I can't really read that fine print without my glasses."
"Where are they? I'll get them for you."
"Right here on the table."
"Well. Put them on, then! So you can read it."
"That's a lot of effort to pretend I'm interested."
"C'mon! Read it!"
"Okay. Uh huh. They've got you scheduled up to 10:30 at night. And you get up at 6:00."
"I don't know when I'll have time to shower."
"Yeah. That's not listed. Probably during the morning forty-five minute clean-up time. Do you know what city you're in yet?"
"No. Let's look it up on your laptop."
"Let's not." I raced him to my laptop. Possession and all that.
"Oh, c'mon. Hey! It's really hard to type from the side."
"Too bad. I'm not moving."
"Boone. I'm in Boone. Let's see where other people I know are. Hey! After looking up all those schools, I didn't see one other person in Boone. I'll run for Mayor. And win!
"Don't be so sure. You can't vote for yourself, because that's not ethical. So you will be defeated by NOBODY. Loser."
"Stop doing that!"
"What? This? Rubbing my knee? It makes that knee feel better."
"I can't stand that noise. I'm done." Genius plopped himself down on the short couch. "Can I take two regular ibuprofens? My jaw hurts, but not too bad."
"Why don't I cut one of those 800 milligram ones in half. It's the same amount as two regulars. But it might work faster without that hard candy coating."
"Okay. Get it now."
"But I'm not finished rubbing my knee!" I stood up and walked away from the front window where the laptop sits. There are a couple of boards over there that could moonlight as creakers in a haunted house. "Hear that? I TOLD you my knee was hurt!"
"You'd think living in a house full of crazy people would be fun. But it's actually kind of annoying."
"Deal with it. Here. Here's your half pill."
"That was much harder to swallow than a whole one."
"Well, it didn't have that beveled edge all around."
"I could feel it clawing at my throat on the way down."
"I should have given you the Lorcet. it makes you easier to manage. It's already ten o'clock. I'm going downstairs to my computer. Don't bother me."
"Don't worry. I'm watching the Apple liveblog at noon. But I still have two hours to kill."
I escaped to my dark basement lair. Fired up my desktop. Opened my blog. Guess who appeared behind me and flipped on the light, in full Mayor-campaigning regalia.
"How does this look?"
"It's fine."
"Does this tie go with it?"
"Yes. It's fine. Goodbye."
"But doesn't it look good?"
"Yes! Leave me alone. You're sure not The Pony. I get NOTHING done when you're home with me."
"Stuff happens."
"YOU happen!"
"That was uncalled for and inappropriate."
"Yes. But so true!"
"Hey! Are you writing about me? Let me read it!"
"No. I have something else in mind for today."
"That's not happenin'. Do ME. I love the ones about me!"
"You're like a peacock. Always wanting to be admired. And hard to ignore because you're loud and screechy."
"Just hurry up and get that one done."
"I seem to have a problem getting ANYTHING done."
5 comments:
"Are you writing about me?" Don'tcha love it?
Maybe he would leave you alone if you told him you were working on a story about him for an anthology.
"Imagine it, Genius. A book that's sold all over the world and in it is a story about you."
It might just work...
Over the shoulder reading. You should habve written "juicy". So he'll be gone for how long? :)
Every future mayor/peacock needs a mom to remind him what is uncalled for an inappropriate.
Stephen,
He has always had a desire to be noticed.
**********
Sioux,
I did tell him that I already submitted one story about him. But one is not enough for Genius. So today, after tormenting me for a solid hour, he went to his grandma's house. Though I think it was more for her high-speed internet than to leave me alone.
**********
Linda,
When he was younger, he would reach around my arm and delete sentences as I typed. Things I had no plan of posting, but told him the whole world was about to find out what he was really like.
Genius will be gone for 8 days. I will be hurting for material. Hick is no good for back-and-forth banter. He's good for decrees that I pick apart. The Pony can't be bothered with speaking. Hopefully, somebody in the community will wrong me, and I can fly off the handle.
***********
Leenie,
Ain't that the truth! And to remind him of proper grammar, as well.
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