Monday, October 27, 2008

Big Brother's Sticky Situation

I am Big Brother and I will only take my medicine if it is the cool, yummy orange one that I love. I do not like the red medicine for robots. I am not a robot; I am a boy. Mommy says I have to take the red Robitussin, and my face makes many horrible shapes, because I hate that stuff. I shake my head no! Mommy backs me into a corner in the kitchen, and I fall on the ground, (on purpose), because the smell of the robot medicine knocks me over.

Mommy is starting to "freak!" She says she's waiting, and thinks she's starting to "age." I will keep my mouth closed until she is 134 years old because I am not a robot. I am a boy. Mommy sits on me, the spoon touches my lips and makes them feel all tingly. I scream and Mommy gets out the sugar. She says I can have a whole spoon of it if I swallow the medicine, but I don't take that deal. I try for a milk shake from Carvel instead, but Mommy says, "I do not negotiate with terrorists!" Mommy's going to jump off a cliff if I don't take my medicine, but I remind her that there are no cliffs in our town. She will have to go to where the cowboys live, or maybe Mars, to find one. Mommy begs me to take my medicine, but I am not a robot, and my mouth is shut tightly.

Next, Mommy is looking out the window, and she thinks she sees one of Santa's elves, but I don't care. She can see the dentist elf knocking on the glass with a tooth brush, and I still won't open my mouth. Now the phone is ringing. Mommy picks up with the hand that is not holding the spoon filled to the brim with robot medicine. She looks worried. It's the police department. A policeman wants to speak to me about taking the robot medicine! "NOOOO!" I shout. I'll open my mouth. Mommy hangs up and puts the spoon in my mouth, but something really bad happens. My lips can't hold in the sticky, smelly robot food. It sprays out of my mouth and all over mommy's shirt. OH, she is not happy. She just threw the spoon across the kitchen into the sink. "Nice shot, Mommy!" I say. I tell her she can be like one of those Globetrotters, but she is grumbling, walking away from me. "Mommy! Does this mean I don't have to take my medicine?" Looks like mommy was the sticky one this time.

3 comments:

Starbe said...

LMAO! I know how nasty that stuff can be, Big Brother, but just try to remember that Mommy is your mom for a reason. I think it's safe to say that she doesn't want to give it to you any more than you want to take it, but the medicine companies don't use the yummy orange flavor for all their medicines. Let this be a lesson, and next time she tells you not to go on the swingset in your underwear in October, it might be a good idea to listen. I wish a quick recovery and lots of sleep. And give Mommy a kiss and tell her how much you love her.

Romy and Andrew said...

Dear Big Brother,
I pretend everything is my passie. Then it is so easy to take the medicine. You're too big for a passie, but the sugar that Mom offered sure sounds good.
I hope you feel better soon.
love,
Page

Dean said...

Oh, how I laughed, and out loud, too! I don't text so I won't write it that way, you know the way you were reading it when I wrote about Laughing Out Loud...no, not going to do it!
But this is really funny stuff. Loren, maybe you should archive all this for a sit-com!
Oooops...did I blow your cover?

Dear Internet Traveler,

Welcome to my writer's blog, started about six years ago for fun. Over time, the writing I have posted has ranged from personal reflection, to Long Island history research, to tall tales for my own amusement, to feature articles for local newspapers. As you can see from topics listed here, I travel in many mental directions in regard to interests. Click on the tabs and labels to explore my strange mind which senses that you may be having a criss-cross day. If so, perhaps this blog will distract you. However, please note that if you tell me my blog is beautiful just to get me to advertise rhinoplasty surgery and cheap drugs from Canada in your comment, I will ask the gods to give you a tail that cannot be concealed.

Fondly,

Loren Christie

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