Homework

"Have you done your homework?"

"Oh mom!"

"Quit playing with the dog and get in that bedroom and do your homework!"

Jason reluctantly released the sock that he had been pulling from Cocoa's mouth and the dog stood there in silence, waiting for her master to return to playing their game of tug-of-war.

"Can't a kid have some fun?"

"You've had enough fun today. Right now, it's time for your homework."

"Listen to your mother," the father insisted. "I told you how important your homework is."

"Oh yeah, like my whole life's gonna end if I don't do my stupid homework."

"Hey, young man, you watch your mouth!" The father had been reading the evening paper from the family room couch but now he directed his full attention to his sarcastic son. Jason remained on the floor near Cocoa, fully expecting a tongue-lashing by his father. He was determined to remain defiant, but his father's large imposing stature and the swiftness with which he was capable of pulling out his belt, quickly diminished his boldness. "We've been too lenient on you this year and your grades are down. But that's gonna change. From now on I want you to automatically do that homework of yours after dinner. And I don't want to have to tell you about it, again."

Jason slammed his fist into the soft, carpeted floor before rising. He was aware of his disobedience, yet he wished to make a stand. "I don't know what the big deal is," he sharply replied.

"The big deal is: we want you to have a future."

"I don't understand what's wrong with you kids today," the mother chided him. "They can't make it any easier for you."

"Oh right, like it was so much harder when YOU were kids." Jason's insolent response surprised even him.

"You're damn right it was," the father argued. He hopped off the couch and approached his defiant son. "We didn't have all the luxuries like you kids have today. And we didn't talk back to our parents the way you kids do."

"It's tougher being a kid today," Jason declared, slowly backing away from his father. "You didn't have all the problems we have. We have a lot more pressure today."

"All right, just for that, you're grounded! Now get in that room of yours and do your homework! And stay there for the rest of the night."

"What did I do?" Jason cried out in surprise.

"You know very well what you did! You better start watching that mouth of yours, boy, 'cause I've about had it with your sarcastic remarks!"

Jason stormed out of the family room and headed down the hallway to his bedroom. Cocoa loyally followed him, wagging her tail.

The mother and father gazed at each other in silence for several lingering moments. Their son's laziness was becoming a growing problem and they were uncertain how to handle it. His behavior baffled them because they had always stressed the importance of work to their son.  Where had he developed such apathy? They shook their heads in dismay before resuming their prior activities.

The father returned his attention to the evening paper which was displayed on the family room ceiling-viewer. He floated comfortably two feet above the flat, bed-shaped, anti-gravity couch, with his arms folded casually behind his head. "Turn to Sports," he commanded. Page one of the Sports' section instantly appeared on the ceiling-viewer.

The mother reclined on the shape-shifting rocking chair, which naturally altered its shape to provide the maximum comfort to its host. She reached over to the house's computer control panel, pressed a red button and ordered, "Othello, please." Colorful, life-like, computer generated, hologram actors suddenly appeared in their family room and began to act out Shakespeare's classical play. Her left hand tightly gripped her Tension-Ball, which absorbed all the stress and anxiety from her mind and body.

"I hope we aren't pushing him too much," the mother noted worriedly. "You know, it's not good to push a child too much, either."

"The boy's got to learn that life's not easy," the father firmly replied. "No one's gonna hand you anything today. You have to work for it." He reached out and grabbed a snack made, and served to him on a tray, by their government-issued robot.

"Rays, please," he commanded, as he munched on his delectable after-dinner snack. An invisible beam was instantly emitted from the anti-gravity couch and was directed at its occupant. Gentle bursts of stress-relieving heat and comforting waves of inaudible sound, vibrated and massaged his aching back and his stiff neck. "These four-hour work days are killing me," he mumbled to himself.

"I hope we're doing the right thing."

"That boy's taking everything for granted," the father abruptly added in anger. "And we've got to put a stop to it right now."

"I guess so," the mother softly replied. Her eyes were already closed - her mind and body drained of all the anxiety that was the result of the previous argument. She was beginning to drift into a deep, relaxing sleep.

Jason was fuming in his bedroom. He hurled his pillow against the wall in indignation before brusquely grabbing his homework assignment for the night.

"They don't understand," he bitterly complained, directing his comments to Cocoa. "Things are tougher today. They don't have any idea what it's like being a kid."

But since no reasonable alternative to his problem existed, he reluctantly placed aside his resentment and began to work. He inserted the homework disk into his player, grabbed the long connecting cord, and inserted its metal end into the socket in the back of his head. Like everyone else, his cerebral socket had been implanted at birth.

Jason always hated downloading his homework into his brain. He swore it was the longest two minutes of the day.

A Little Respect, Please

It sounds incredible, but the small country of Greece seems to be burning down. Police believe arsonists are responsible for at least half of the fires. Thirty people have died so far, many of them trapped in their homes or their cars. Residents all over Greece have called fire departments, police, and media about fires surrounding their homes, but there have simply not been enough firemen to respond to all these fires.

The government has asked for aid from France, Italy, and Germany. Greek ruins that are almost 3,000 years old are in danger of being burnt down. Fires surround Athens, the capital city. The hillsides are ablaze, and there seems to be no end in sight. Entire villages have been destroyed. There has been no rain for two months, and the trees are so dry that just the heat from an approaching fire causes them to explode into flames.

Police have arrested three suspected arsonists. One suspect, oddly enough, was still complaining about the 2004 Olympics. He had applied to carry the torch into the stadium and light the fire to officially start the Games. His application was ignored. “You have to be somebody,” was the reply he got when he called the Olympic Committee in Athens. “And you’re not—you’re nobody,” an official told him. The man was in jail for three years for trying to blow up the committee’s headquarters. Yesterday, police caught him walking away from a new fire with an empty gas can in his hands.

“I’m nobody, huh?” he told the police. “Well, I’m somebody now!”

A Life-Saving Cow

Six consecutive days of spring rain had created a raging river running by Nancy Brown’s farm. As she tried to herd her cows to higher ground, she slipped and hit her head on a fallen tree trunk. The fall knocked her out for a moment or two. When she came to, Lizzie, one of her oldest and favorite cows, was licking her face. The water was rising. Nancy got up and began walking slowly with Lizzie. The water was now waist high. Nancy’s pace got slower and slower. Finally, all she could do was to throw her arm around Lizzie’s neck and try to hang on. About 20 minutes later, Lizzie managed to successfully pull herself and Nancy out of the raging water and onto a bit of high land, a small island now in the middle of acres of white water.

Even though it was about noon, the sky was so dark and the rain and lightning so bad that it took rescuers another two hours to discover Nancy. A helicopter lowered a paramedic, who attached Nancy to a life-support hoist. They raised her into the helicopter and took her to the school gym, where the Red Cross had set up an emergency shelter.

When the flood subsided two days later, Nancy immediately went back to the “island.” Lizzie was gone. She was one of 19 cows that Nancy lost. “I owe my life to her,” said Nancy sobbingly.

A Jealous Girlfriend

Gary and Alma were having problems, again.

"But you told me it was okay to call up Carol," said Gary. "I asked you if it was okay to talk to her, because it was her birthday and I've wished her a happy birthday every year for the last 10 years."

"But you had already promised me that you would never call her again. You promised me that. So, you lied to me."

"But I had forgotten that I told you that. You know that I forget things. I'm not going to argue with you; you have a memory like an elephant. But you've got to believe me, I completely forgot. And more important, Carol is just a friend."

"No, she isn't. She's still in love with you."

"But I'm not in love with her. She can love me all she wants, but I'm not in love with her. I never was!"

"Well, you say that. Maybe it's true. Maybe it isn't. But the important thing is that you never know what the future will bring. You say that nothing will happen between you and her, but you don't know that for sure, because you don't know the future."

"Yes, you're right. No one knows the future. I could fall in love with her again, and she and I might run off and get married and have nine or ten kids."

"Again? What do you mean 'again'?"

A Hot Day and a Cool Pool

It was their first vacation together in years. Meg and Oscar had been running their own jewelry business for years. They made a nice income, but they were busy all the time. They went to one trade show after another, flying throughout the US and often to China and other countries. Their last vacation was at least ten years ago. Recently, Oscar’s doctor said that Oscar’s high blood pressure was going to be the death of him. After questioning Oscar about his eating and exercise habits, he concluded that Oscar was stressing himself out at work. He told Oscar that he needed to stop and smell the roses more often.

“In short,” he said, “I’m writing you a prescription for two weeks of R&R—rest and relaxation, immediately. In fact, I want you to take off four weeks a year, and these must be nonworking vacations. No cell phone, no laptop. Do you understand me? In case you don’t, I’m telling Meg, too. You might not listen to me, but you will listen to her.”

Meg canceled all their activities for the two weeks at the end of July. Fortunately, they did not have any flights scheduled. She booked them a nice hotel near Palm Springs. “We’ll catch up on our magazines, newspapers, and TV reruns,” she told Oscar. “We won’t even TALK about work for two weeks, okay? We’ll relax in the pool, get massages, and treat ourselves like royalty. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Oscar said, smiling as he saluted her.

The hotel had failed to tell them that it was undergoing renovations. But when it offered everything at half price, Meg and Oscar stayed. The second morning, about 10, Oscar told Meg he was going to take a swim. She told him not to forget his sun block. She went back to sleep. When she woke up at noon, she put on her swim suit and went outside.

She couldn’t stop screaming when she saw Oscar submerged beneath the water. His foot had gotten caught in a suction vent that workers had not covered properly. He had been under water for ten minutes.

A month after the funeral, back home, Meg was going through her mail. The hotel, apparently worried about a lawsuit, had sent her an offer to stay there free for a month. The congenial letter suggested that she “Bring a friend!”

A Hole in Her Ear (2)

Two days later, Cassandra was still feeling uncomfortable. The whooshing sound was constant, and she still felt dizzy and nauseous occasionally. Travis had already made an appointment with Dr. Schwartz for Wednesday. On Wednesday, Dr. Schwartz walked into the examining room in his shorts and sneakers; he was semi-retired. Travis told Dr. Schwartz what had happened. Dr. Schwartz listened, and then looked in Cassandra’s ears.

Yep, he said, her left eardrum was punctured. Travis felt like killing himself. “How could this happen?” he asked. “I’ve had lots of girlfriends. They blew in my ears, and I blew in their ears. This never happened before.” Dr. Schwartz said that it was unusual, but that it did happen from time to time. What could be done, they both asked the doctor at almost the same time.

He told them that they had two choices: surgery, or waiting. The surgery would cost about $2,000. Waiting would cost nothing. He suggested that, if Cassandra could bear the discomfort—she must keep that ear dry at all times—for about two months, the eardrum should heal itself. Surgery, he said, might be advisable after two months, but he wouldn’t recommend it now. He could prescribe her some medication to ease her discomfort. They agreed to wait. They thanked Dr. Schwartz, and Travis drove Cassandra to Rite-Aid to pick up the medication. He apologized to her again. She said that they must pray every night for her eardrum to heal.

A Hole in Her Ear (1)

It was Sunday. “Don’t blow in my ear!” Cassandra yelled. “I have very fragile skin. If you blow in my ear, it might break my eardrum.” Travis laughed. He didn’t believe her. He had seen too many movies and read too many books where the guy blew in the girl's ear and the girl ended up marrying the guy.

So he blew in her ear. She cried out in pain. “You're kidding,” he said, startled. But the look on her face said that she wasn’t kidding. Something’s wrong, she told him. He apologized profusely. She put her little finger in her ear; when she pulled it out, there was moisture on her fingertip. She said she could hear a whooshing sound. He felt sick. He couldn’t believe that he had just injured her. This had never happened in any movie or any book. Yet it was happening to her.

She felt dizzy. She ran to the bathroom and threw up. “I’m so sorry, honey,” he told her. Very quietly, she said it was okay. She wanted to go home. He walked her out to his car. She said the whooshing sound was not going away. When they got to her place, she got into her bed and lay down. She asked him to please leave, as she wanted to try to sleep. He apologized again. He got back into his car and returned to his apartment. What a jerk I am, he said over and over. What a jerk.