Saturday, April 21, 2012


By Bubba and Max

 Max: I heard Dad say he’s glad he’s retired. What does that mean?

Bubba: It means he doesn’t have a job anymore.

Max: Oh. So that’s why he’s around the house so much. (Scratches his ear) What’s a job?

Bubba: It’s, uh, something you have to do.

Max: Like go outside and chase the squirrel? And do tricks? And poop?

Bubba: Uh, I think there’s more to it, but I heard Dad say that at some jobs you get pooped on.

Max: (Pulling back his lips) Eeeewww.

Bubba: (Rolling her eyes) Not with real poop, you dope. Mom calls that a figure of speech. It means that bosses make you do stuff that you don’t like or that seems like a waste of time.

Max: What are bosses?

Bubba: People who are in charge and tell you to do things.

Max: (Jumping on his hind legs and twirling) Like Mom tells me to dance like this so I can get a dog cookie?

Bubba: Show off!  But people do things bosses say so they can get money, not dog cookies.

Max: What’s money?

Bubba: (Sighing and curling into a fetal ball.) That green paper stuff and metal stuff in Dad’s pocket. He uses it to pay to for our house and electricity and food and dog chews.

Max: Dog chews! I love dog chews.

Bubba: I know. (Baring her teeth and snarling) You ate mine yesterday when I wasn’t looking.

Max: Well, you shoulda been looking. (licks himself) What happens to people who don’t like their jobs?

Bubba: Sometimes they find another one.

Max: Like I found that dead snake on the road? (Runs in a circle) That was way cool when Mom screamed.

Bubba: (Puts her paws over her ears.) She broke a window in the next block.

Max: And she jumped really, really high.

Bubba: Yeah, who knew a 64-year-old woman could hurdle a hedge Back to jobs. You have to look to find a job. And sometimes there aren’t any.
Max: Like in the winter when I can’t find any snakes because they all hibernate or something?

Bubba: Exactly like that only totally different. Could we stop talking about snakes?

Max: Okay. Wanta talk about frogs?

Bubba: No.

Max: Bugs?

Bubba: No. I wish, for once, you could stay on the topic.

Max: What’s a topic?

Bubba: Hell-oh-oh. The thing we’re talking about. That’s the topic.

Max: Bugs? Frogs? Snakes? Dog chews?

Bubba: No, jobs.

Max: Oh. What about them?

Bubba: Never mind, you’re too thick to get it. (Squeezes eyes shut and sighs)

Max: I’m not thick. Feelth my nothe. I’m feelingth fine.

Bubba: We’re done here.

Max: But I thought you wanted to talk about jobs.

Bubba: Not anymore.

Max: You sure?

Bubba: (Snapping at him) Go away. I'm napping.

Max: Is napping your new job?

Bubba: No. Yes. Okay. Yes, right now it’s my job.

Max: Then what’s my job?

Bubba: Leaving me alone.

Max: But I—

Bubba: Look. Outside.

Max: What?

Bubba: Squirrel!


  1. Cute post. I was thinking my novel needs a dog. Now I'm not so sure.

  2. David, there's always room on the pages for a dog! Would I lie to you?