“The rules,” the nanny said. “No running. No shouting. No sweets. Clean your room. Stay neat and tidy.”
Tommy stopped listening because it all meant one thing: no fun. He nodded, while planning the biggest, loudest sugar-fueled bedroom mud fight of all time.
It was time she learned his rules.
GB breaks at least half of Nanny’s rules every day.
My brother called me a prison probability. I told the pansy, “Shut up,” shoved four candy bars down his pants.
The fat lady lurched from behind the counter, grabbed his collar, half the stash, shrieking, “Snot-nosed delinquent!”
After mom whooped him, I snuck into his room: “Hand them over, punk!”
Meg Tuite’s writing has appeared in numerous journals. She is the fiction editor of The Santa Fe Literary Review and Connotation Press. Her novel “Domestic Apparition” (2011) is available through San Francisco Bay Press. She has a monthly column “Exquisite Quartet” for Used Furniture Review. You can read her blog at http://megtuite.wordpress.com.