Flash Fiction Friday: Is This Real Life?

Got some sick kids hanging around the house today (and the past couple days), and I can’t help but think about the absolute delirium at least one of them has been showcasing.  Decided I’d make an attempt at turning that into prose.

 

Ow, my head.  I don’t think it’s ever pounded anywhere near this hard ever.  Ugh.  Stupid mornings come by too fast.  Wait…is it morning?  How long have I been sleeping.  Guess I should probably try opening an eye to see.

Unnngh.  Burning eyes of Agamemnon!  What the heck is going on with my head today?

Pretty sure I saw light.  It’s probably day.

I could use some water.

Wait.  Did I just get some water?  Seems like I might have—

Is someone talking to me?

Shhh, I think to myself.  Stop thinking so loud and see if we can figure out what the heck is going on out there.

“You gonna get up or what?”

Hey, that sounds like Dad!

“Dad!” I yell, but notice that no noise comes out of my mouth except a mild groan.

“Hey, buddy.  You aren’t looking so good.”

“Mmmgrbaflish.”

I think I hear my Dad laughing.  I open my eyes and give him an evil glare.

“Whoa there, pal,” my Dad says, his laughter stopping quickly.  “You really don’t look so good.  Guess that explains why you were up every hour last night asking for water.”

“Grple.”

“What?”

Why can’t I get the words I want to get out.  I use all my energy and try once more.  “I…don’t…feel…so good,” I say.  My voice sounds weak.

“Oh, I’m sorry, pal.  Maybe I can grash car arple google.”

“What?”

“I said maybe I can get you some more water.”

“Yeah.  Water.”

“Be rarg beepo.”

“What?”

I watch my dad disappear.  He comes back moments later with a cup in his hands.

“Sish un.”

“What?”

“Sit up, buddy!  Are you having trouble hearing me?”

“I want some water.”

“I know, pal.  Got some right here.  You’ve gotta sit up though.”

“Okay, Daddy.”

I sit up, but feel my head continue moving back toward the bed.

“Whoa, hold on there mister.  You’re grap keel poo.”

I feel his hand against my head and through the pain, I laugh.  “You said poo, Daddy.”

“What?”

“Poo poo.”

“Drink the water, pal.  I think you’re staying home with me today.”

“Okay Daddy.”

“Alright, want me to carry you downstairs?”

“I need water!”

“You just had some water, pal.”

“What?”

“You just drank the water, kiddo.”

“I need water!”

“Okay, hold on, let me refill the cup.”

I realize my eyes are closed, I reopen them.  I’m sitting on the big chair downstairs.  How did I get down here from my room.

I hear my mom and dad talking in the other room, but I can’t make out what they’re saying.

My eyes hurt so bad.

“Hey buddy, wake up.”

“What?” I say, opening my eyes slowly.  It’s dark in here.

“Wanna go back up to your bed?”

“I just got up.”

“Um,” my dad laughs.  “No, pal.  You’ve been down here all day.  Don’t you remember?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s bedtime pal.”

“Okay, daddy.”

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