Hurry up Jasper! - 500 word story

Hurry up Jasper, we’ll be late for school!

How many times have I uttered those words? This morning? Come to think of it, did I even say that out aloud? Siobhan swiped a blob of margarine across one more interminable slice of day-old bread while leaning over the kitchen bench to glare at Olivia, who was joyfully pulling the cat backwards under the couch by its tail. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times Olivia – do NOT pull the cat by its tail. You will hurt it.” Siobhan deftly threw together the rest of the sandwiches, taking care to mark Jonathan’s with a big red X with the fat tip marker kept near the sink for exactly that purpose.

“Jonathan, we’re ready to get into the car – come grab your lunch and reading bag.” Shouting into an empty doorway may not be the best communication method for the morning helter-skelter of school days but there’s no time to go drag the child out of his bedroom right now.

Jasper slid across her view, skateboarding the kitchen floor in his dirty school socks. “How many times must I tell this child?”, Siobhan asked herself blankly. An inner voice answered “whatever is the equivalent of 11 more years”, immediately adding “and 6 more after that, if he decides to become a Vet”. Some part of Siobhan shuddered a little at the thought but all associated emotion was suppressed in a diamond effort of assertive self-control, and was subsequently put aside for a lunchtime personal therapy-and-crying session later in the day.

“Where’s Jonathan?” Siobhan asked no-one in particular. Certainly not Jasper, who was now under the couch, dragging Olivia backwards by her dirty bare feet. “Olivia, how did you manage to get your feet so dirty?” Siobhan asked. Possibly out aloud but regardless there was no answer to be expected, and even if by some miracle an answer was put forward, it would be muffled by the blanket that was now draped haphazardly over the couch edge, as a tent. “Where the firkin’ frickin’ hell did that come from?” Siobhan’s inner self demanded of some other inner self, who did not seem to be taking calls right now.

“I’m out of here and getting into the car in two minutes”, Siobhan shouted to all and sundry, along with anyone within hearing range of an attractive, 120 decibel singing voice.

Siobhan ran to the laundry and into the linen cupboard to drag out four plastic shopping bags, and in the process dropped a lunch pack into the cat litter tray, managing to trip the water dish which subsequently went on to perform a majestic parabolic display of artistic splurge over the laundry wall.

“Jonathan!” screamed Siobhan as she maneuvered one foot to remove the wet sock from off the other foot. A quick scan revealed the kitty tray and floor to be acceptably clean. “The wrapping should keep it from picking up any germs, I guess?” Siobhan assured herself, picking the lunch pack out of the tray, stuffing each lunch pack into its own shopping bag as she stormed back through the kitchen, sweeping up Crunch ‘n’ Sip bags and barely pausing to push the couch aside with her sockless foot.

Sisyphus may have found satisfaction pushing his fucking rocks up the mountain each day but Camus can shove his existential meaning right up his French arse, Siobhan suggested to a younger, more principled and aspirational inner self. If the lazy bastard had spent less time womanising and more fathering children, philosophy would be a whole heap more palatable to the modern working mother. The thought comforted Siobhan as she drew a deep breath and launched into Stage II of the school morning grind.