A family sits at the table in the early morning. The dog stares at the brother, begging for some “healthy” bacon. The brother picks at his food, fearful of the broccoli at the edge of his plate. The sister hardly eats anything, staring down at her phone, analyzing the cryptic message of a boy: “Sup?” The dad reads a paper. The mom stands beside the dad, rocking a rambunctious baby.
“Why aren’t you eating anything?” the mother asks her son, concern in her voice.
“It’s nasty!” the son retorts. “Momma, you know I’m afraid of the green brains.”
“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!” says the sister.
“Father? You going to deal with this?” prompts the mother.
“Uh… wha- what?” the father stumbles, likely dazed from the distraction of his paper.
The mother sighs. “Come on, kids. You’ve got to get to school.”
The Dog
“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!”
Internal dialogue:
Woof, woof waooaf wharf woof, woof! (Translation: I have no idea what they’re saying, but the human word “cat” seems to make me mad, for some reason.) Woof! (Translation: Anyway, back to the important thing. Food, food, food! If I stare at the human long enough, maybe I can make him hand me the meat. I hope he doesn’t give me the green things, though. They nasty.)
The Brother
“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!”
Internal dialogue:
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Why is it called scaredy-cat? Why can’t it be scaredy-dog?
Um… that’s not how that works.
What about scaredy-tarantula?
Gross.
Ok, what about scaredy-iguana? They’re pretty scaredy.
You do have a point.
Thank you.
No, thank you.
Don’t be so modest. Thank you.
Oh, stop it. Thank you.
No, THANK YOU!
NO, YOU!
And thus began the internal courtesy battle. How his mother would be proud.
The Sister
“Don’t be such a scaredy-cat!”
Internal dialogue:
Derrick isn’t a scaredy-cat. He’s a hunk. Oh, Derrick…
Your dreadlocks are as greasy as the grill.
The way you disobey teachers–what skill.
Your sweaty T of deepest quartz.
The way you care about only sports.
I’m drawn to your strong body odor.
You are a hunkalicious ogre.
I hope I can meet your high standard.
Such a hunk.
The Dad
“...cat!”
“Uh… wha- what?”
Internal dialogue:
My fake listening skills ain’t what they used to be. Were they talking about ‘cool cats’? Didn’t know kids still said things like that. But man, I wanna be a cool cat. I’m sixty years young, and what have I got to show for it? You know what you need, Bobby? A tesla. That’s an essential product, right? I’m sure the wife will understand. I need to get me one of them go-fund-mes that all the cool cats are digging, these days. Can I start a go-fund-me for a tesla? Why not, I’ve seen people do that for less important things, like food and water. ‘Bobby Arlo’s tesla fund, giving young men cars, since 2021.’ That’s quite the slogan. I’ll ask the wife about it. When she’s most distracted, of course.
The Mom
“Come on, kids. You’ve got to get to school.”
Internal dialogue:
I am surrounded by idiots! Anyway, I do hate school. That’s where the aliens change our DNA with cyborg rodents. I hope our good luck charm protects us from the imminent alien invasion.