Busy Bee Day

Note: I have returned to this blog after a long and busy holiday. Thank you for acknowledging and have a wonderful, quirky read!

Reminder: This is a work of fiction. Everything described following this reminder is unfactual or exaggerated. Do not be alarmed and thank you and have a wonderful read!

An early peaceful Saturday breeze wafted into the gaping window. Birds sang the song of the Spring. The apartment sways to the musical silence, though inside is as tranquil as an erupting volcano. “Where are my clothes?!” “When are we going?” “Quick! Move already!” A train of rackets surged in my brain as I stretched and reminded myself it was Saturday, a work-free day! Suddenly, I remembered today was a once-in-a-lifetime busy day. My smile turned upside down. My brothers were twisting faces blindly crying for sketchbooks, clothes were littered and some were slipping on Legos. A catastrophe even by What If? standards. A Saturday should not be like this. First stop, the hair salon.

“Quick children! Because of your behaviour, we are already two minutes late!” Two minutes. Seriously? We hopped into the car. We arrived at the hair salon, a marblellous enclosure. Those whose hair was being rinsed and massaged by the shampoo chair were on cloud nine. Withdrawing patrons were brand-new Barbie dolls as ladies stared at the many magical mirrors, putting their hands to their cheeks, chins in the air. Perm machines sucked data out of unsuspecting heads. We were all having a cut simultaneously as I glanced over my brothers, who were resting in peace. But as I scanned Jeein, something was out of order. Hair had just fallen onto his nose as “A-ACHOO!” What happened next made me jump out of my skin. The hair clipper shifted and hair fell. All gaped as  Jeein looked up.  “Whose child is that?” Heein asked. Mum dragged us out and moved to the next destination despite Jeein's bald spot, the last place one would like to visit in the universe, the dentist.

Mum covered Jeein's head with a hat as the dentist's office was sighted ahead. The weather was sunny with a hint of cloud. The dentist's office seemed like it was making its own weather. Thunderstorms with a probability of about 98% of fainting. We entered the building and the dentist awaited us. “Hello, children. I'll be seeing your teeth today!” “Mummy, I thought the dentist was a witch,” said Jeein with round eyes and gaps in his milk teeth. To Heein, it seemed he heard, “Greetings, children. How tasty you look. Ooh, my fellow dentists would lurrrvve to eat your teeth!” Heein’s pupil's dilated. I went first. A robotic arm awaited me, headed straight for my teeth. The chair shuddered. Drills filled the room: one was exploring my mouth. I was ushered out with a bag of stickers. The same went for Jeein, but he already had shiny teeth. Heein was greatly humiliated. However adorable, he had fallen on major cavity days. His candy running days are over; the dentist is the last place one wants to visit.

I bounced on the bed, with all the sordid labour lifted off my back. Heein was sitting on the bed, looking forlorn and stealing glances at some Haribo bears. “Can't I eat ANYTHING?” “NO! CAVITIES!!!” Mum said. “Hey Ein, what about your friend's Christmas letters?” She continued. “What Christmas letters?” “Your school friends.” Speechless. I opened the drawer and lifted a metre high pile of letters. I flipped my pen upside down and started scribbling on the paper, eager to be quickly written on as I took my time. My eyes were turning red after hours. But then, I lost my grip as I sank into darkness.

I woke to an owl hooting outside. I struggled with the incomplete task of writing. Finally, letters are complete! I put my legs on the table, an eye mask over my eyes. My thoughts spiralled into a rainbow, Don't Stop Me Now echoed in my ears. But as the song faded away, a new thought entered my mind. Tape. Without tape, sealing the envelopes was impossible! I asked Jeein about this issue. With twinkling round eyes, his index fingers touching each other, his jelly-like cheeks bouncing, he said, “Bubby, about that, ummm, I used all the tape.” WHAT?!” “I used all the tape.” This was code for, “Sorry Ein, you can't deliver letters.” My face elicited The Scream.“NO!!”