For this one, during a brain-wash epidemic, you must get your mother to look at you.
THE SINGING (any gender, mid to late teens)
Mom, can you look at me? Dad's gone. He's gone. He's become-. You were right. I shouldn't have gone to the presentation with him. I called you paranoid. I called you other things. I made dad laugh. But you were absolutely right.
Mom, can you look at me? I might help you, if they come after us. What they do is sing. This one note "oooooo"-- God, I can't do anymore. I'll be sick. But it went on and on. They sang that note right at dad. Just him. And then he started signing it back. And then he turned on me "oooo"-- but, but, but I got away. He didn't go after me. None of the rest of them are after me. Not yet.
Mom, please just look at me... I'm ready to let you be the parent again. I---
Yes... you're crying. I could cry too.
Mom, this face? You're seeing the face of apology. The eyes of apology. Corny way of putting it. But accurate. Isn't it? I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for brushing you off. Really its been years and years of that, right? And I'm so, so, sorry that this was the way I learned to listen to you. Losing dad.
I'll make it up to you, mom. Sounds stupid right now. But accurate. You can't imagine how much better life is going to be. Sooner than you think. I can help.
Before you get sung to, the carrier has to look into your eyes for just three full seconds.
Thank you for looking, Mrs. Harris.
It is our pleasure to welcome youuuuuuuuuu...
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes. If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"