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!
Cute post. I was thinking my novel needs a dog. Now I'm not so sure.
ReplyDeleteDavid, there's always room on the pages for a dog! Would I lie to you?
ReplyDelete