Laugh

Laugh
Click any letter for a look at my prize-winning essay from the Erma Bombeck Writing Competition. You don't even have to buy a vowel.

Sunday, October 6, 2013

Shut Up and Shut Down

“Mom, there’s a “Death before Dinner” sign on the kitchen door.”

“I know.  We’re having a shutdown to show you how government works.”

Son One pulled a bag of leftover Easter Candy from his underwear drawer and snapped the ears off a crusty rabbit.  “Cool. I never thought I’d really need my Zombie Apocalypse stash.  Good thing I’m prepared.” 

My stomach launched a shutdown of its own.

The plan was to let the family experience the Government Shutdown on a small scale so they could identify with the major problems.  I didn’t realize I was dealing with Duck Dynasty:  Armed for Armageddon.  I was surrounded by an army of Uncle Si.

The first thing I thought of was a ban on The Facilities. There’s nothing like a plumbing shutdown to make people see how things flow. Or, more importantly, what happens when they don’t.  But somehow I could see everything flowing back my way, so I abandoned Operation Waste Management.  Because those of us on the grass roots level comprehend the thought behind getting caught with your pants down.

Next, I tried a laundry room shutdown, mostly because I don’t like to sort.  Also, I’m fairly sure that nasty things await me at the bottom of the laundry basket.  But my household is made up of all guys, and the thought of a household full of men with access to a week’s worth of dirty underwear smacks of Nuclear Holocaust.

And so I proceeded with my final idea, a Kitchen Shutdown, which involved tossing out the half-full boxes of stale Fruit Loops which people only eat in times of desperation and allowing the reserves of snack cakes and coffee to dwindle.  It’s a hard lesson, but if you’re going to do something, you have stand your grounds.  It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I forgot about the Labradors.  And the Dachshund.  And the kitten.  And the coffee-deprived buccaneer brandishing his empty cup and mumbling something about “planks” and “booty.”

Perhaps if Congress had to contend with drooling Labradors guarding the kitchen door and an attack kitten ready to swoop down on unattended chicken salad, they would be a lot more attentive to the chicken coop before the feathers started to fly.

4 comments:

Beth Bartlett said...

Ha! The government needs a shipment of attack kittens. Those needle claws will make anyone cave. ;)

Angie said...

I think the nuclear underwear would send a clearer message of how we feel about Congress's current performance. ;)

stacey said...

I say we send ALL of our dirty underwonders to Congress to show our slight displeasure in their shenanigans.

Amy Mullis said...

Ladies, I think I've discovered who needs to be in charge here. I dub you all Queen. Because, well, tiaras.