Transformers

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “An Odd Trio.” Today, you can write about whatever you what — but your post must include, in whatever role you see fit, a cat, a bowl of soup, and a beach towel.

“Mom!”
“What? I’m in the kitchen. Quit yelling. You think this is the Greyhound station or something and you’re the station master?”
“Ha ha. Where’s my towel?”
“What towel?”
“My Transformers towel. My beach towel. I got swim today.”
“I have no idea, Lamont. It might be in the dryer. I did a big load of towels yesterday and I haven’t had time to take them out and fold them. Hey, tell you what. You take them out and fold them.”
“No time, Mom.”
“No TIME? What’s so precious about YOUR time that you can’t help me?”
“Well, you know, carpe the diem and all that. I’m only young once.”
“Right. Well, if it’s not in there, I don’t know where it is. You might want to check your school locker.”
Lamont dug around in the dryer and quickly found the brightly colored beach towel. “Got it, Mom.”
“Would it kill you to fold the other towels for me? I have to get to work.”
“It’s bad enough I have to be a latchkey kid without doing your work for you.”
“If you end up raising a kid on your own someday, you’ll find out just how fun it is.”
“Oh mom,” he said, giving her a hug. “I love you, mom.”
“I love you too, sweetie. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Careful on your bike, OK? I’ll see you when I get home from work.”

“Lamont, dude, what’s up with you and that stupid ass towel? I mean, dude, this isn’t eleMENTary school.”
“I like Transformers.”
“Yeah, well, those are like TOYS. For KIDS.”
“You played Transformers. I bet you still do.”
Jackson’s face turned bright red.
“Yeah, well, there you go. My dad bought me this towel.” Lamont put his hand on the towel as it if were a pet cat or some other soft and precious thing.
“I’m sorry, dude. I didn’t know. You might want to keep it safe, then, not wear it out. Stuff doesn’t last forever.”
“I don’t care. Even when it’s old and worn out, I’m going to like it.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you ride your bike to school? You want to ride back to my house after school? We can watch Beavis and Butthead.”
“My mom won’t let me watch Beavis and Butthead.”
“Why?”
“She says it teaches me to be crude and disrespectful.”
“Too late.”
“Heh heh, heh heh, cool…”
“That sucks, heh heh heh, heh heh.”
The boys collapse into stupid boy giggling until the coach comes in and asks them if they’re going to spend all day there.

When the last bell rings, Lamont pushes his bike home and Jackson walks along beside him to Lamont’s house. On the kitchen counter is a note, “Hi Honey. I’ll be home about 5:30. Go ahead and fix yourself a bowl of soup if you’re hungry. If Jackson is there with you, DON’T watch Beavis and Butthead. Watch something else. Jackson’s mother called me last week and screamed at me for thirty minutes about how evil that program is and what a bad influence. Personally, I agree with their music critiques, but it is pretty violent and it does exalt stupidity.”

“Your mom writes to you like THAT?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. So what do you want to do?”
“You want some soup?”
“Naw.”
“Me neither. You want to play Transformers?”
“YEAH!”

The boys high-five and head upstairs. It’s true that Lamont does have the biggest Transformers collection probably on the planet.

Warning: Jackson’s mom is right. Enjoy this clip at your own risk.

Here’s the story I wrote last time this prompt came around. I like it! 🙂

2 thoughts on “Transformers

  1. I love Bevis and Butthead, always did. My colelagues at work had a t-shirt printed for me with Beavis and Butthead on it, Unfortuantely it got washed out over the years. That sucks – but no really. They were ahead of their time probably. Was this after the time Dude and Lamont were fighting for the survival of the dinosaurs? Loved this piece.

    • Thank you. I love Beavis and Butthead, too. No, this is long past the dinosaurs. This was during the current iteration of Lamont’s life, back in the 90s when he was a kid. Heh heh, heh heh heh, Dude.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s