I suffer from acute, proactive, energy conservationism (aka: laaaaziness). Until recently, this malady has affected only me. However, it has become clear that my wife suffers from a temporary onset during her recovery from a torn rotator cuff, and my son is showing signs of a strong genetic predisposition toward multi-slacking.
All of this may best be illustrated by our new obsession with texting.
It may be important to introduce some working vocabulary here so you can follow:
• Fetch-text: When your wife texts “bring me a diet coke” because she’s watching Chaz Bono drop-kick Nancy Grace on “Dancing with the Stars.”
• Cease-and-desist-text: When you text “stop yelling Booyah!” to your son because you can’t hear Gordon Ramsey curse over the boy’s gleeful celebration of perfect head shots in Call of Duty 3.
• Text-of-denial: Texting “I’m in the shower” after your son texts “get mom a diet coke” after she texts “DIET COKE!”
• Remote parenting: During an important meeting (at Vaughn’s Pub):
Dad: r u ok?
Son: on fire
Dad: srsly
Son: it burns.
Dad: YOU BETTER ANSWER ME NOW &^%$#!
Son: what’s the number for 911?
Dad: there’s pizza in the freezer.
• Remote bonding:
Dad: just played shart in Words with Friends!
Son: IN CLASS!
Dad: like a boss!
Son: OMG stop txtng me!
Dad: Love you!
Son: Block you!
• Wireless banking:
Son: Hey, dad? Can I get the $20 you owe me for my A in biology?
Dad: My phone is dead.
Son: Lol, dad. You’re so funny. But seriously, I did get an A in biology and I could use that $20.
Dad: But you got a D in math. That’s -5 against the 20 leaving you 15 and you didn’t take out the trash this year, -120, so you owe me $100.
Son: Birthday check from Aunt Dora. You only gave me half. You owe me $70.
Dad: Review your invoice for taxi services in the amount of $532.19.
Son: I was telling my friends how funny you are. I love you dad.
Dad: Well played. Here’s 20 bucks. Are you on the back porch?
Son: I”m on the couch next to you!
• • •
On the plus side, we’re a much quieter house. We now text silently, speaking almost entirely with our minds, as our alien overlords prefer. I used to bellow “SHUT UP I’M ON THE %$%#$@! PHONE!” But now I text “zip it,” which the neighbors can’t hear, so the kid has no leverage. That makes me happy because I am finally “silent but deadly” in a way that only affects one of us.
Chris Garlington lives in a standard two kids, wife, dog, corner-lot, two-car dream package. He drives a 2003 Camry, sports a considerable notebook fetish, and smokes Arturo Fuente Partaga Maduros at the Cigar King as often as possible. His stories have appeared in Florida, Orlando, Orlando Weekly, Catholic Digest, Retort, Another Realm, The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature, South Lit, and other magazines. His short story collection, “King of the Road,” is available on Amazon. His column “My Funny Life,” was nominated for a national humor award. He is the author of the infamous anti-parenting blog, Death By Children; the anti-writing blog, Creative Writer Pro; and co-author of “The Beat Cop’s Guide to Chicago Eats.”
