Tuesday, 25 March 2014

shafted (feelin kinda fearful part 2)

-What the hell is that rap crap? Is that on the telly?- I walk in on my son who is spread out on
the floor with his face a foot from the screen.
-Some satellite channel I found accidentally-, he replies, changing over immediately.
-Don’t you have to finish your book report for tomorrow ?- I flick at but deliberately miss his miked-up ear.
-Yes-em-, he back-passes a Simpsons reference , - but I have to sort of find a life first, can’t face another Whinge In His Striped Pyjamas-.
So I tick off my twelve-year -old-and advise,
-Before you kick back,
being mindful of what you want for your Birthday, that it’s after ten,
pizza ready all of which I could eat myself, Goal of the Month coming up,
future social harmony at risk, fragrant teachers and stuff,
possible man-on-man peck at the school gate next week,
smiley face in lunchbox stuck to fluffy coconut cream-
He expertly races through the keys of the tv control, squeals past x factors culchie camper
pretty in pink denial for half a century, hears the oven bell call, catches my eye,
yums and rubs his belly, whines past News At Ten,  brakes at MOTD, nods me towards the kitchen.
So I check teams.
-How would you vote in a referendum? What if you had no vote?
What if you had two dads? Page-boyed track suited jeeped-up mum with weird checked apron ? Leg warmers for goalposts, not to mention the pharmacy bills and blunted razors-.
 -Yes-em!- He’s Cletus again from The Simpsons. -Dang, old timer! How twentieth century are you? My friend Blank Mc Blank’s Dad had a manicure on hols. Referendum is promised--So what-, I step on the ball, -there’s no referendums in the Bible. Only stones-.
-Really, haw haw-.
MOTD theme tune begins to boom in and I press him again, but he turns up the volume now,
suddenly impatient.
 -Daad!. Have a day off-, he blows up.
-My teacher says testosterone busted the country. She says boom boom my backside-.
-Come on now, boom out to the kitchen and get that pizza-, I threaten to substitute.
-Can’t-, he says. -Not old enough to cook. Have to finish that book report somehow written
fifty years late by an Irish man about a concentration camp-.
Jesus would have wept, but he’s surfing again.
QI tells us it’s illegal to wee in public, but not illegal to poo. Figure that one out, I kind of ole. But he’s in the jungle now.
A nineties celebrity ex model who looks a bit of a horse is eating a bit of a kangaroo.
So I go for feckin’ pizza myself .
As the door swings closed behind me the rap dude is back on.
Sometimes I think I would go back to The Rugrats on a loop.

Same sex marriage referendum will make Ireland 'a beacon of light'
Referendum on Same Sex Marriage to be held in 2015

©Noel Loftus
Noel Loftus is a member of ward9writers based in Mayo and enjoys very short bursts of inspiration tempered by long periods of work.