Absent Note #36:
He’s never coming back to school. He rose long enough to say he feels like shit, it’s back like it was Monday, and he will surely die today. So far, his promises of impending death, much like the ones to clean his room, are worthless. The pediatrician is still not interested in seeing him and is now explaining the flu to me in very small baby words. Is this some reality show version of Groundhog Day, with a cash prize at the end? He finally showered when I pulled the plug on the Xbox and threw it out the front door last night. I was hoping he would run after it so I could lock it behind him, but instead he looked at me like I was a crazy person. It’s starting to feel like summer vacation, but without the warm weather and frozen adult beverages. You’re going to need Seal Team Six and some drone-firing missiles to come with the truant officers because if you can get him out of here, the only way to decontaminate the place will be with fire. When they get the Starbucks, please have them stop at the liquor store for anything more than 40 proof.