Memory Log #1

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"Elizabeth, pass me the remote."

"No! It's my turn to watch T.V.!"

"Lizzy... p-please give Mikey the remote... y-you've been watching for a long t-time..."

"Yeah, listen to the crybaby, Liz!"

Elizabeth scoffed dramatically as she thrusted the remote into my hands with such rage-fueled force that it nearly fell to the floor. She then proceeded to pout and call me a "poopy-head", like I cared.

Unfortunately, as both she and my brother refused to leave the living room, I couldn't watch my usual stuff. Instead, I had to stick to Tom and Jerry, because that was the only kid-friendly show I could think of that wouldn't rot my braincells.

A few minutes in and my stupid crybaby of a brother started crying again. My God, could he shut up at least once!?

"What's up with you now?" I asked, in the most 'I'm being nice so stop crying' tone I could muster.

"M-Mummy and-- and Daddy are f-fighting agai--again..."

I had to strain my ears a bit but I could hear the faint sound of our parents having a pretty heated conversation.

"So? They do this every day."

He kept mum after that, so I decided to drop the matter. Eventually though, our parents' screams were starting to be heard over the insanely loud whimsical music of T&J, and I tried to drown them out by raising the volume. They were still audible.

The crybaby did as crybabies do and started to cry, while Elizabeth held me tightly. I'll be honest, the amplitude of Mother and Father's voices was starting to get a little concerning, but I was certain it was nothing to worry about.

"Mikey... do Mummy and Daddy not love each other anymore?" Elizabeth asked, looking up at me with wide, tearful eyes.

I rolled my eyes. Is this kid for real?

"Of course they do. They'll go from banging their fists to banging each other in no time, and everything will go back to normal. Now don't start crying like your brother. Jeez, I'm surrounded by whiners!"

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow at that comment, but turned back to the T.V. .

Eventually, I had to raise the volume to 100%. Even then, Mother and Father's voices were quite clearly audible. I could catch a word or two here and there in between Spike's dialogues, even if I wasn't paying attention to their drama.

"... NEVER CARED... SO SELFISH... ABOUT THE KIDS!?"

"I DO WHAT... YOU'RE TOO BLIND... ALWAYS DANCING ABOUT!"

I heard the sound of glass smashing from their room, causing [Crying Child] to cry even harder and Elizabeth to shudder next to me.

Okay, I thought to myself. Enough is enough.

I stood up and marched towards my parents' room. I wasn't sure what I was going to do once I got there, but I had to do something. They were going too far with this; breaking stuff and scaring the kids.

I found out I didn't have to worry about that, because their screaming stopped before I got there. Instead, Mother was charging towards the front door, Father at her heels.

"Now, darling," he said, tenderly. "Perhaps you should think about this before--"

"I've done enough thinking, William!" Mother yelled. She did not digress.

I felt a sense of panic rise in my chest. Mother was wearing her outdoor clothes and dress-shoes, and judging from her attitude, she wasn't going for a short stroll.

"Mother..." I said, softer than I intended. I was trying to decide whether to ask about the argument, or where she was going, when I got completely drowned out by Father, who had grabbed her arm.

"Sweetheart, please! You're not thinking clearly! Let's just sit down and talk about--"

"My decision is final! I'm leaving, and you will get all the 'alone-time' you need!"

"Mother..." I said again, a little louder.

"You want to work all day, that's fine," she continued, ignoring me. "You want to spend your nights playing pinball with Henry, that's also fine. Forgive me if I just wanted some place in your incredibly busy life!"

Father's response was so incredibly ridiculous that if I weren't concerned for the family's integrity at that moment, I would have laughed, or facepalmed.

"Wha-- I-- Ju-- Since when do I play pinball with Henry?"

That did it. If Mother wasn't furious before, she sure was now. Without another word, she stormed through the front door, Father still jogging after her.

"MOTHER!" I yelled, in one last, desperate attempt to catch her attention.
It was to no avail. She was gone.

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