"Responsabillyabee"
by Eric Miller
“Grandpa’s
here,” his daughter called out to his two
grandsons: five year old “Demmo” and
eight year old “Lishun.”
“Which
Grandpa?,” both boys asked in unison.
“You only
have one Grandpa,” Mom replied.
“Yeah,
but he flips. Sometimes he’s Grandpa and
sometimes he’s Grump-pa,” came the
singular, double response.
“Well,
today it’s Grump-pa,” Grandpa said
growling, as he picked up Demmo, twirled him over
his head, slam-dunked him onto the sofa, and
tickled him unmercifully.
“When’s
breakfast?,” Lishun asked.
“Grandpa
will make you English muffins. And Dad, don’t
let the boys watch television after I leave.
You’re the one who is always complaining
that it makes them brain-dead, decreases their
attention span, and stifles their curiosity and
analytical skills.”
“Do you
know how to make English muffins, Grandpa?, Demmo
asked.
“Well, I
know how to make Chinese muffins, French muffins,
Nigerian muffins, Brazilian muffins, and
Indonesian muffins, but no, I don’t know how
to make English muffins.”
“Grandpa,
you just stick that muffin over there into the
toaster,” Lishun instructed.
“Yeah,
Grandpa, you have to take some responsabillybee
to know how to make us English muffins.”
“Who’s
responsabillyabee?, Grandpa asked. “Is he
one of your new friends?”
“No
Grandpa,” Demmo replied. “It’s a
thing, not a person.”
“What
kind of thing?”
“You know,
the kind of thing you’re supposed to have
when you mess up your room, so you can clean it
up.”
“Oh, that
responsabillyabee. There must be two of them like
there is two of me.”
“Let’s
play chase us,” Lishun announced.
“No, it
takes too long for my knees to recover,”
Grandpa confessed.
“Well,
just be slow and sneaky and trap us then,”
Demmo suggested.
“I’m
leaving,” Mom announced. Don’t forget,
Demmo, turn off the television as soon as Lishun
leaves for the school bus. He has to be out the
door at exactly 8:25.”
“Only
four more minutes,” Grandpa said to Lishun,
who lay on the couch in his pajamas watching the
television.
“Okay,”
Lishun grunted.
“No,
Lishun. It’s 8:21. You only have four
minutes to get dressed and leave.”
Lishun rose
from the sofa like a rocket rising, and in one
continuous, choreographed move, he removed his
pajamas, pulled up his pants, pulled down his
sweater, stepped into his shoes, slipped his arm
through his backpack, and ran through the screen
in the door, leaving a cut-out in it as if he
were a cartoon character.
“This is
a good movie you’re watching, Demmo,”
Grandpa said, as he sat on the couch.
“We have
to turn the television off,” Demmo reminded
him.
“No,
it’s okay. This is a good movie.”
“Mommy
will be real mad if she sees us watching
television when she gets home.”
“No, not
if it’s a good movie,” Grandpa replied.
“I
thought I told you to turn the television off
when I left,” Mom screamed when she got home.
Grandpa
pointed to Demmo, and Demmo pointed to Grandpa,
as they both said in perfect unison: “He
made me do it.”
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