LJ Idol Three Strikes: Prompt 22 — "Woke Up and Chose Violence"

[flipflop_diva]

It’s days like today where I sit in front of the open window, feeling the soft breeze on my face, that I wish I were someplace else.

My moms are both home, but they might as well not be. It would be better if they weren’t. At least I would have the house to myself — I’d be able to roam, to stretch my legs, to sing my songs without someone telling me to, “Please, not now!”

It’s approaching mid-morning, but neither of my moms has bothered to feed me. One of them mumbled something about me not eating the food from yesterday, but it’s hard and bland and probably stale. I did push a piece around on my plate, but it made my stomach curl just thinking about putting it into mouth.

No one deserves to eat day-old food.

I wish I could cry, but my eyes are dry, and it’s not like I’m not used to this. I’ve been dealing with their neglect all my life.

Besides, even if I could cry, who would see my tears? Who would care? My moms think I don’t hear them, those soft whispers to each other in the dead of night, or the conversations on their phones with their friends.

But I do hear them, and I see them, and even when I’m pretending to be asleep, I know what they are saying and what they thinking — that I’m lazy, that I’m a mooch, that I’m never any help.

That one hurts. Stabs me right in my core. Don’t they see what I do for this family? Don’t they understand how hard I try?

Don’t they care about me at all?

Maybe I’ll show them. Maybe I won’t be so docile anymore. Maybe I won’t just lay in bed and stay out of their way like a good boy.

Maybe I will make sure they rue the day they decided I wasn’t worth their time.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

--

I wake the next morning with a fire in my gut. It’s still early. Too early really. No hints of sunlight peek beneath the curtains, and both my moms are still in bed, not even stirring a little.

I begin to sing. A sweet little lullaby I came up with myself.

It’s loud, but it’s beautiful. Someday, I will be on stage, where I belong. My moms might try to stop me, but someday I will escape.

The song flows out of me, more mournful than normal, but I love the way it sounds it in the otherwise morning silence.

In their bed, my moms begin to stir. I hear groans start to emanate, and I sing louder.

I pretend not to notice when they start calling my name, loudly, like I am a nuisance and not their child.

I keep singing.

Notice me, notice me, notice me, I want to cry out.

But they are getting angry. A pillow swooshes by my head, but I am undeterred. I keep going, letting my beautiful song fill the room. One of my moms grabs me then, pulls me angrily to the bedroom door. I stop singing, start protesting, fighting to get away from her grip.

But she is too strong, and I am no match.

She deposits me in the hall, slamming the door in my face like I don’t even matter.

I cry out in agony, try to throw myself against the door, but I know it is to no avail. They will not open it again to me, not for several more hours.

I make my way to the kitchen, feeling even more miserable than normal. Once there, I stare around me, feeling hopeless. Ever since I was born, my moms have locked the pantry and the cabinets. Just another way to control me. But as I look around this morning, I notice something. One of the locks isn’t fastened all the way.

It takes some effort — my hand-eye coordination is not always perfect — but I do it. I free the cabinet of its lock. I swing the door open and stare down at rows and rows of Tupperware, stacked neatly in piles.

This is perfect.

By the time my moms climb out of bed — and they call me the lazy one! — the kitchen is redecorated, Tupperware containers everywhere. I’ve also moved everything that was on the table and the kitchen counters.

I think my moms are going to explode with rage. But it’s what they deserve.

I slip out of the kitchen as they scream for me, wanting to know why I’ve done this, what they’ve done to deserve this, but they know. I know they know, and I feel better as I listen to them spending what would be their hour devoted to drinking their coffee and playing Wordle on their phones picking up Tupperware instead.

I am not done yet though. I am just getting started.

--

By nightfall, my moms seem ready to concede defeat. I have tripped each of them at least three times during the day, spilled two glasses of water all over the floor, threw up on purpose on one mom’s shirt, hid the socks from the laundry basket as my other mom pulled them out of the dryer and spent the entire hour Mom One was on the phone with her boss crying pitifully beside her.

Now, I sit smugly on top of the table, sure it has worked, sure I have gotten their attention.

And it has!

Mom One goes to the pantry and pulls out exactly what I have been waiting for — the can of tuna.

Mom Two snags me before Mom One gets it in a bowl.

“Marshall,” she says, her voice gentle and kind. “You’re a goofball, but we love you.”

If I could smile, I would.

My moms let me eat my food, then they beckon me to come with them into the living room. I hop up on the couch and curl up between them. This time, they both pet me right away.

I doze off as my moms watch their shows.

I know the day will come again when they will ignore my needs and tell me to stop singing and refuse to give me tuna, but for now, they have learned their lesson.

I sleep in peace knowing I once again rule this house.





Fiction. Although this is inspired and dedicated to my kitty nieces & nephew, Piper, Luna, Tabby and Cooper, who wake up every day and choose violence. Also dedicated to my sweet kitty niece Jude, who would never.



This was written for therealljidol Three Strikes Mini Season. If you liked my entry, please consider voting for me! You should also go read all the other amazing entries. You can find them all here. Voting should be up Friday night!

Comments

[erulissedances]

I wasn't sure if it was a cat or dog, but yes, it's very cat-like indeed.

- Erulisse (one L)

[banana_galaxy]

I got a sense early on that it was a pet (dog? bird?) but then I switched back to thinking it was an actual child. I'm glad it turned out to be a cat rather than an actual child though, because I just feel like a child living in that kind of environment would be too much to bear!

[dsrmousey]

Agreed

[dsrmousey]

So kitty like...

[roina_arwen]

Very cute!

[ofearthandstars]

As soon as I got to the line about moms not bothering to feed them, I knew instantly your character was a kitty! Such loving sneaky devils of chaos they are!

[breakfastatholly]

I think Piper would definitely identify a lot with Marshall :D What mean mean moms he has, haha.
<3333

[hwango]

Yes! Free that Tupperware from its infernal cabinet prison! Let it run free on the floor like nature intended!