Fic post! "Defunct"
Title: Defunct
Author:
miri_away
Date: March 15, 07
Rating: PG-13
Type: Original (Not for long?)/ Drabble-ish
Genre: General, Psych, satire!, humor?, crack?, snark?
Summary: it seems a fitting punishment
AN: I've been away a while: family stress, school stress, and all of that have kept me from writing anything I planned before. Generally, I bum at everything now; I forced myself to do something about it. Here is that something for all of those in the mood for a laugh.
My dad was zonked and my mom and I were watching a particularly hectic scene of the movie Silent Hill; the cacaphony prompted my mom to turn it down and when I pointed out that the noise was the best part her only explanation was, "Dad's asleep." As if on cue, he snorted half-awake. My parents are odd like that. Or maybe just normal. Anyway, I took it and ran...far, far away from whatever logic I felt it was linked to in its conception and here came this thing instead of homework. I'm pretty sure I wrote it in my head before I typed it up within a three minute span. It was word-spittle, a snow-ball of escalating rationale. This isn't a portrait of them: they were just the inspiration. Think of any couple who pushes their other half's buttons: this is where the reaction goes wrong. Also, I rediscovered the wonder that is time-zones today. (Based on JTHM, sorta)
--
Defunct
miri_away
But...it always works.
You turn the tee-vee down because he’s still asleep: it's only polite. Turn it up ‘cause he’s missed his show: it is a fair warning. You turn it off in the hopes he will hear you if by some stretch of the imagination, you’re attacked in the kitchen and need his brawn: it's the least you can ask. You set it to a channel that only plays infomercials because he hadn’t woken up even when you yelled upstairs experiment-like: it seems a fitting punishment. You set it to a snow-channel and wait, irritated, for it to get at least a groan out of him because he gets irritated at those, too; you turn it up until the whole room is abuzz with it, the blizzard, the pixels, the loss; you turn it off, hoping the abrupt silence will startle him awake when nothing else had. You unplug the tv during a particularly obnoxious sermon, kick the cord against the wall, dismantle the tele-stand with as little caution as you can muster, and, when that too fails to wake him, you throw the defective set at him. He doesn’t wake up.