FAMILY ROAD TRIP!

“Shut up. Can’t you kids ever stop squabbling back there? I’m going to put both of you on a time out, I swear I am.”

“But MOM, he TOUCHED ME!”

“Loretta, I am going to touch you. Then you’ll have a good reason to cry. Joey, leave your sister alone.”

On the road to Skowhegan (Hi Bette!)

Voice of boy child with strong adenoidal whine: “But MOOOOOOM, she’s taking up the whole back seat and I can’t help touching her. Anyway, why can’t I touch her? She touches me all the time.”

“She does what??”

“I do not”

“Do too.”

“DO NOT!@!”

(Long pause)

In a whisper: “Do too.”

“Do not.”

A booming baritone from the front seat, the Voice of Dad, speaks: “One more word out of either of you and I will stop this car and you will both be crying and you’ll have a damned good reason.”

(Whispers)

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

(Pause, wait, longer pause)

The sound of vomiting fills the car along with a sickening and pungent odor.

“Ew. Yuk. MOM he barfed all over me! Make him clean it up.”

Chorus:

“ARE WE THERE YET?”


This show has been brought to you by Happy Family, the breakfast cereal that’s got it all: sugar, food dye, trans-fat, and gluten.

And no, we are not there yet.



Categories: Cars and Trucks, Family, Fiction, Humor, Photography, Travel

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

13 replies

  1. This is perfect, Marilyn! And very familiar! ❤️🥰🎄

    Like

  2. Oh marilyn! I love it! Such a cute story! ❤

    Like

  3. I’m glad we are over those family trips. Hilarious

    Like

  4. Too, too familiar. Finally my dad, in desperation, bought a car that had a dividing arm rest that pulled down in the middle of the seat. Then of course we fought over who would put their arm on the armrest. Finally, one time my dad pulled the car over to the side of the road, got out, climbed over the fence and went down to a willow patch by a small stream, cut a willow switch and came back to the car. Put it on the front seat. Didn’t say a word. Nor did we for the rest of that morning’s ride.

    Like

    • Yup. Same scenario. For us, the act of pulling over to the side was entirely warning enough. We got it. But you see, there were THREE of us, so someone got the middle — usually me. AND I got carsick in the back. I was in the middle because I was the least contentious — or, more to the point, my brother really disliked my sister and I was the official neutral party. On those awful vacations some of which lasted for weeks of simmering anger, I basically hated everyone. Equally. Which was as close to neutral as we got.

      Like

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