(no subject)
Mary thought that having a puppy looked like a responsibility she couldn’t handle at this stage in her life, but a baby looked like fun. A little person that got older and smarter and had tastes and preferences? It was like your own Artificial Intelligence program. Only it would be real intelligence. Which would cancel out any of the comforting predictability associated with the words “artificial” and “program.” There was the rub.
Mary wouldn’t be having any babies anytime soon, but today she would be taking care of some. Not actual babies, they were about five and seven years older than a baby, making them five and seven years old respectively. One was named Valerie, the five year old. The other was Charlie, seven. They belonged to Mary’s boss at the talent agency where she stapled papers together and answered phone calls. It was Presidents Day, they wanted to go to the Six Flags, and Mary was obliged to make that happen for them.
They set out at 7:30 am, so that they could “miss traffic” and “make it to the park in time to beat some of the lines,” two watery ideas that Mary was complying with only because she seemed to remember the logic of her parents as she planned this outing. Funny how she gave the old fuck-you to their insistence that she think it over a little more before moving to the Big City, but followed without provocation or question their methods of Six-Flagging.
This extended to preparing plastic baggies of Goldfish crackers, pretzels, and raisins, which Charlie munched on complacently in the passenger seat as they drove north on I-5.
“Why don’t they clean the signs?”
Charlie was asking about every question other than “Are we there yet?” while Valerie leaned sleepily with her face smushed against the car door in the back. So far, Mary was charmed, answering each question to the best of her ability.
“I suppose it takes a lot of work to send a guy out there to do it, and it costs money. I suppose the city would rather spend that money on making sure your schools have good teachers and facilities.”
“We go to private school.”
“Well, I understand how you might feel shortchanged by that, then.”
The Goldfish were an unnecessary precaution, considering the two hundred dollars in Mary’s pocket given to her the day before by her boss for food, toys, and anything else that children typically pitch fits about. “We’ll call it your sanity fund, nkay?” she had said with a scrunchy face that wasn't quite a wink as she placed the bills in Mary’s hand. The early departure was also an unnecessary precaution; there had been strict instructions to purchase the Speed-Thru pass for an extra $20 each, which indeed sped the carrier through every line to a shorter, Speed-Thru-only line. “We’ll call it the sanity pass, nkay?”
Mary wouldn’t be having any babies anytime soon, but today she would be taking care of some. Not actual babies, they were about five and seven years older than a baby, making them five and seven years old respectively. One was named Valerie, the five year old. The other was Charlie, seven. They belonged to Mary’s boss at the talent agency where she stapled papers together and answered phone calls. It was Presidents Day, they wanted to go to the Six Flags, and Mary was obliged to make that happen for them.
They set out at 7:30 am, so that they could “miss traffic” and “make it to the park in time to beat some of the lines,” two watery ideas that Mary was complying with only because she seemed to remember the logic of her parents as she planned this outing. Funny how she gave the old fuck-you to their insistence that she think it over a little more before moving to the Big City, but followed without provocation or question their methods of Six-Flagging.
This extended to preparing plastic baggies of Goldfish crackers, pretzels, and raisins, which Charlie munched on complacently in the passenger seat as they drove north on I-5.
“Why don’t they clean the signs?”
Charlie was asking about every question other than “Are we there yet?” while Valerie leaned sleepily with her face smushed against the car door in the back. So far, Mary was charmed, answering each question to the best of her ability.
“I suppose it takes a lot of work to send a guy out there to do it, and it costs money. I suppose the city would rather spend that money on making sure your schools have good teachers and facilities.”
“We go to private school.”
“Well, I understand how you might feel shortchanged by that, then.”
The Goldfish were an unnecessary precaution, considering the two hundred dollars in Mary’s pocket given to her the day before by her boss for food, toys, and anything else that children typically pitch fits about. “We’ll call it your sanity fund, nkay?” she had said with a scrunchy face that wasn't quite a wink as she placed the bills in Mary’s hand. The early departure was also an unnecessary precaution; there had been strict instructions to purchase the Speed-Thru pass for an extra $20 each, which indeed sped the carrier through every line to a shorter, Speed-Thru-only line. “We’ll call it the sanity pass, nkay?”