"Do you get too old to scold?"
The little boy ran down the hall singing the sing-song line in his head. He thought he was in the clear. It was something that he had heard his parents say in the kitchen nook. They thought they were shielded by the silence of the house but the boy had come down to get a glimpse of his punishment.
"He's too goddamn old to scold."
"No he isn't. The shit he does... the shit he does - we should lock him up. We should lock him up and have someone else take care of him. I can't take this anymore." The Mother was twice the angrier of the two.
"Well - there's nothing we can laud over him. There's nothing he'll miss."
"T.V. - he'll miss that shit."
"But then we can't watch T.V." the Father said with some sort of poor mouth response. Sheepishly looking down and then back up. He knew they only had one television in their tiny little apartment and that it was the only escape from their wretched boring lives. They created nothing. They saved nothing. The nourished nothing. They harbored nothing. And now - somehow, in this little care they became nothing.
"What are our options?" The mother said looking down at the only thing she was still proud of... her wood floors. It was what she spent their wedding money on. They bought the little apartment from the Home Owners Association and the first thing she did was put in wood floors. It was quite ridiculous but it was only step 1 in her plans of making this home. Then the boy came...
The boy stood on the 3rd step in the duplex. It was the partition in the house where he could hide and hear. His wobbly head smelled. His feet were dirty and he had been in the same pajamas for 3 days. He had yet to learn to bath himself or care about his own hygiene.
"So what? What now? What do we about this?"
The mother looked again at the corner of the room and pointed. The wood parquet flooring had been removed in one section. They hadn't noticed what was underneath. They both knelt down and pulled it up. It was sticky with some sort of jelly on it. It was paper. It was tens of sheets of paper all stuck together. They were pictures.
The mother wept.
The father moved his head in shame.
The 240 pound middle aged boy - ran down and hugged them both. They all sat in the corner and cried.