Donny walked into the kitchen, the chains on his wide, goth-style pants clanking loudly. His sister, Allison, sat at the table about to bite into an apple.  Donny yanked the apple out of her hands and threw it through the window with the sound of shattering glass. “Donny!” his mother yelled.

                “Shut up. I’m gonna go rob a convenience store,” he replied.

                “Ummm…,” his mother whimpered, “Please don’t do this to do this to me again, Donny. I can’t handle it anymore.”

                “F*** off,” Donny said over his shoulder as he opened the door, stalked out, and slammed it after him, the angry sound resounding behind him.

Lazy

“Could you do the dishes for me while I’m gone?” my mom gently asks me as she slings her purse over her shoulder and places her hand on the doorknob.

                “Right,” I say as she walks out the door. While she’s gone, I lean back, pick up the remote, and throw some chips into my mouth. Right, like I’m gonna do any work. What am I, the maid?

Mr. Boyle, read the crooked, sloppy handwriting on the board. “I’m Mr. Boyle and I’m your sub for today,” the old man drawled, “Your teacher  has a movie that we’re gonna watch today.”

                Mr. Boyle picked up the movie, a documentary on World War II, and proceeded to put it in the VHS. He spent about twenty minutes hobbling around the TV, trying to get the movie to play.

                “Does anyone know how to work this thing???” A few students put forth suggestions, none of which Mr. Boyle could figure out. Finally, he went into the next door classroom and pulled out Mr. Ford.

                “Mr. Ford, help! Hitler’s stuck in the VCR!” We heard Mr. Boyle shouting. Mr. Ford relented and pressed one button, and the movie started to play.

                As the movie started, we all had a sense of déjà vu. “Mr. Boyle,” we cried, “we watched this one yesterday!”

“Hey, Mom, can I ditch school on Thursday so I can go to the mall?” Judy asked nonchalantly.

                “Oh, sure honey. Have fun!” Mom chirped, always agreeing to whatever we wanted.

                “Shopping?” I said, with a smirk. “Last time you skipped school to go ‘shopping’ you came home as baked as a potato.”

                “Oh, Lauren, it’s okay,” Mom said cheerily, “as long as she has fun!”