It only takes a few of my blogs before you know that is a big word with me.
We take care of our own and each other when we get old and infirmed, but we continue to destroy the planet and you asshole idiots who wouldn’t see a climate change unless it threatened your very existence.
Under the letter “K” and the emotion Kindness here is a shorty about stewardship.
“Junior! Junior!” his mother yelled from the kitchen. She was hovering over a tray of homemade meatballs pulled hot from the oven. They smelled of garlic and oregano and Junior was hungry. Really hungry.
“I can hear Billy crying again. Can you please go see if his diaper needs changing?”
“Aw mom,” Junior protested.
The extended index finger emphasized his mother’s threatening tone.
“Not one word. You promised me if I got you a car, you would help make up the cost by helping me with Billy. Besides, we really couldn’t afford Maria anyway. It’s only for a few more months. With your help, I’ll be able to quit the night job soon.”
“Alright, alright.” Junior knew the futility of trying to win an argument with his mother, especially when she was right. He trudged down the dark, narrow hallway and carefully approached Billy’s room.
“Oh shit!” Junior screamed. “Mom! I’m gonna throw up! There’s poop everywhere!”
“Plenty of nose pins on the laundry line”, she offered. “Here, smear some of this under your nose,” as she tossed him the little blue jar of Vapo-Rub.
“Oh man. Stop crying.” Jesus he cries all the time. Junior approached the screaming, helpless little body. He wiped his bare back of the dried feces and carefully turned him over. Billy stopped screaming and settled into a muffled sob. Junior used another towel to clean the rest of Billy’s body. He knew that a mess this big was gonna have to be cleaned up and a bath given. He removed the soiled diaper like he was defusing a neutron bomb.
Almost telepathically, his mother bellowed from the kitchen.
“Junior, how is he? After you clean him up, you get some bleach-water towels to sanitize the room. I mean the whole room. Then……”
“I know, I know. A bath.”
“Thank you. You’re such a good boy.”
His mother returned to kneading the little pasta-potato pillows for her gnocchi primavera.
Junior spent the next half-hour cleaning up Billy’s entire room.
How the fuck do you get shit on the walls? I didn’t think your skinny little arms could throw that far.
Junior was speaking into Billy’s vacant eyes. As he lifted the tiny body, Junior had to say something, but he just couldn’t bring himself to call him by his name— Billy.
“It’s OK Grandpa, I’ll take care of you.”