Adoption Papers

Contest Entry for "The Writer's Cramp" 
Prompt: Write a poem or story about families, preferably the zaniness of them.
Word Count: 790


"Jason, no!" I heard my mother's hysterical scream from the next room. "Don't put that knife in the light socket!"

         Upon hearing those familiar words, I immediately dialed nine-one-one, knowing all-too-well the inevitable outcome. While the phone rang, I resumed reading my book.

         "Besides," my mother continued, clearly more calm at that moment. "You're not doing it right. Here, let me show you."

         "Nine-One-One Dispatch. What is the nature of the emergency?" a lady's voice on the other end of the phone call inquired. At that moment, a distinct, loud buzzing noise came from the living room, the lights in the house flickered twice, followed by two loud thuds as a couple of heavy objects presumably fell to the floor. One, I'm certain, was my mother, and the other, my seven-year-old brother, Jason.

         "Yes, there's been an...accident...at 2425 Stephen Av--"

         "Is this the Schuller house?" the lady at the dispatch office interrupted me, a hint of irritation in her voice.

         "Uh, yes." I stammered, fully understanding the reason behind the lady's apparent dismay. "It's my mother and brother...this time."

         The lady shamelessly let out a heavy sigh. "We'll send someone over."

         "Thank y--" I started to say before realizing that the lady on the other end had already hung up. I replaced the phone on its cradle and resumed reading my book. After a few moments, my mother hobbled gingerly into the kitchen. I could hear her teeth clacking together as she shuffled over to the refrigerator. "The ambulance is on the way."

         "Th-that's n-n-n-nice, d-d-dear," my mother managed, as she walked toward the sink, carrying a small bottle of tomato juice.

         Jason then scuttled in, and took the stool next to mine. I briefly looked at my brother, his blond hair sticking out in all directions, and his glasses dangling lopsided across his reddened face-- before going back to reading my book. "Wh-Whatcha r-r-reading, Alis-s-s-son?"

         I held the book up so that he could read the cover. This was a futile gesture, of course, since, despite his age, my brother hadn't begun to read yet. Jason looked at the cover quizzically, and then looked to my mother for support.

         "Your s-sister," Mrs. Schuller began. "is reading ab-b-bout how she can get herself ad-d-dopted by another f-f-family."

         I looked up at my mother just so she could see me roll my eyes. That was when the kitchen back door swung open, and in came my father. He immediately removed his high heels, and walked over to my mother, giving her a kiss. He chuckled while he attempted to wipe away the lipstick marks he made on my mother's left cheek. "Are you still trying to get yourself adopted, honey? You know that we won't let you go so easily."

         "Can you please speak with your normal voice, Papa?" I pleaded, to no avail. Papa always insisted on speaking in his female voice until he's changed out of his dress and removed his wig, make-up and jewelry. "And, yes. I'm going to be adopted by a normal family someday. Hopefully soon."

         Papa chuckled again, as he pulled out a small bottle of tomato juice from the refrigerator. "There is no such thing as a 'normal' family, sweetie. Give it up. Besides, no one can love you as much as we do."

         "You are all insane! I don't how much longer I can live in this crazy house, with a father who dresses like a woman, an idiot brother, and a mother who's always trying to get herself killed! I just want to be normal!" I had never been as angry in my life as I was at that moment. And, what made it worse were the blank expressions on the faces of the recipients of that anger. It's always the same; my crazy family will never understand. I threw my three arms in the air, and stomped out of the kitchen. I had to go to my room-- my sanctuary-- where I could calm down, gather my thoughts, and continue to find ways to get myself adopted into a nice, normal family.

         "What's gotten into her?" I heard Papa ask my mother on my way up the stairs, still speaking in his high-pitched woman's voice.

         "I th-think it's that t-t-t-time of the month for her."

         "Oh, I see."

         I was still fuming as I entered my bedroom. I started to calm down as I allowed my mind to linger over thoughts of finding a new, normal family. I truly hope that I find them soon.