The light from the small window above you wasn’t enough to completely illuminate the room. Kind of why you’re still in bed despite waking up – what, an hour ago? You, knowing yourself, could’ve been there for longer.
‘Oh well.’ You think, cracking open your eyes and shifting position under the covers. So much room, unlike your bed back at the dorms. Really, what better way to celebrate finishing up the exams by staying past midnight last night and sleeping in? Not that you haven’t before… Urrgh, this thinking is just keeping you up, might as well rise. You make a slow crawl out of bed, slipping on your black slippers so you don’t have to touch the cold floor. Sleeping with your kickass matching waistcoat means you won’t have to deal with the cold basement air in the morning in the makeshift bedroom.
Nature calls: The threats from your bladder and the low moaning from your stomach, to be exact. Upon ascended the small wooden stairs to the ground floor, you instantly recognize the voices of your parents… Coming from the bathroom. Letting out a deep yawn, you check the clock on the stove, which reads 10:25AM. Huh, you kind of expected… actually, no, it’s not that later than your usual sleep-in times.
You make your way up to the second floor bathroom, stopping for a second to greet your cat from her slumber on the couch, and shut the door so she won’t come in. Unfortunately you forgot Kitty is not the only creature in the house: Dad’s voice and footsteps are approaching and you forgot to lock the door. You reach out your hand as far as you can when the handle turns, hitting the door and stopping it midway.
“What th-“
“Boo.” You deadpan.
“Oh, god! Sorry!” He quickly shuts the door and heads back downstairs.
“Heh.” What, is he taking over Mom’s position on this running gag? Or will she only walk in on you in the downstairs bathroom? Or will you finally wise up and remember to lock the frigging door? Probably not.
“What is it?” You hear Mom ask.
“I forgot Monos came back.” Dad laughed.
“Gotta get used to the shift, eh?” Her response is equally mirthful. Finishing up, you walk down to the kitchen, Kitty at your heels.
“Morning, Mom.” You say, popping some bread in the toaster.
“Morning, Dear.” She greets back, with Dad’s ‘morning’ and ‘sorry’ echoing from the bathroom nextdoor.
“What are you guys doing in there?” You look her up and down while pouring yourself a glass of water.
“We’re going to be punks.” She smiles pointing to her darker, shiny, damp curls. You follow her to the bathroom, where Dad is also sporting black ‘punk’ hair.
“What do you think, Monos? We look any different?”
“No.”
Mom starts laughing and you go back to your toast, which has conveniently popped at this moment.
“Ah great! My ears are black!” Dad calls out. Heh, good thing you didn’t take a sip then. You gulp down the rest of your water as Mom comes back out.
“Now if only that wasn’t long-lasting dye.”
“Hrk!” You sputter out, trying to keep the spikes of water down while simultaneously attempting to catch your breath. ‘God dammit Mom!’
“Haha!” Her cheeks redden and crinkle with a wry grin as you wipe your own on your fuzzy black sleeve. “Now…” She catches her breath and you munch on the toast. “How are we gonna punish you, Monos?”
Wait, what?
“For what?” You let one cheek swell with food so you can talk a bit. Manners, what manners?
“For letting your brother stay up an hour past his bedtime.”
“Oh.” Yeah. “… He didn’t tell me his bedtime until after.”
“Well, it’s 9 on weekdays, 10 on weekends.” She takes the boiling kettle off of the stove and pours herself some coffee. “He’s already been told his allowance will be deducted. Should we take you off the computer for the day?”
“He didn’t tell me his bedtime until it was almost 10.” You repeat. “And I promised Bro we’d play a game of cards yesterday… And a cartoon marathon this evening.”
“I see…” She takes a sip. “Well, until this evening, okay? I can understand that you two want to play, since you just came back from University.”
“… But it was sneaky.” Dad says when he enters the kitchen, taking his own mug of coffee. A grin tugs at your lips when you see that his ears are, in fact, streaked black. “And we kinda have to punish you." He lets out a chuckle. "Heh… I told him this morning when I was driving him to school. He had this cheeky li’l grin on his face when I mentioned last night.” Dad’s smirk spreads. “Then I said to him that Monos is now in trouble because of it, and his grin just dropped.”
Geez, you can practically see it: your bro’s crooked smile, bearing his buck teeth, and side stare just washing away, exposing popping eyes and an upside down crescent in mild bewilderment.
“Shows him some awareness.” Mom pipes up. “Having someone else get in trouble for his crimes.”
“Heh, just like the Whipping Boy.” You comment aloud, thinking back to some scenes from an obscure television documentary you watched years ago.
“The Whipping Boy?” They say in unision, eyes widening in curiosity.
“Uh, yeah.” You mentally gauge through your memory for the facts. “In medieval Europe – it was on some documentary – when tutors and scholars had to teach the princes, princesses too, maybe, they had a Whipping Boy. They couldn’t hurt the Prince if he misbehaved, so they whipped someone else.”
“Okay…” Mom nods.
“Why would the Prince care?” Dad leans in, elbow resting on the stove.
“Because, uh… Oh, this boy was a close friend, someone who grew up with the Prince.” The animated scene of two little boys floats up from your mind. “Yeah, the plan was to raise them like brothers, so when the Prince misbehaved, the boy would get hurt because of it…”
“And this would cause him, the Prince, to shape up.” Dad cuts in. “Because he sees someone he cares about getting hurt because of him.”
“Teaches him fore-sight and responsibility.” Mom smirks. “Looks like you’re our Whipping Boy, Monos.”
“We have a Whipping Boy~!” Dad sing-songs and Mom joining him as they walk back to the bathroom.
“Whipping Sib.” You mumble a correction. This means that you’ll have to find some other way to entertain yourself for the rest of the morning, since this is the now the closest thing you got for a job. In the meantime, you’ll be eating to sounds of Mom and Dad being the hard core punks they so obviously are!
~~~
I literally based this around my first day coming back home from University last week, with some changes. While I have written funny stuff before, this is my first attempt at writing a comedy in who knows how long. I don't know how funny this is to other people, but I definitely had fun writing this out. Also, I purposefully left out descriptions around the parents so the readers could use their own. Have fun imagining your parents attempting to be punks!
Critiques are appreciated -Monos
ns 172.70.131.14da2
and then Add to home screen.