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Your Weird Life

You hop out of the car, presenting with large enthusiasm your pitite but thick jiggler. You throw all your mom's cash into the air, prancing around, mocking a gregarious ballerina or something that you saw recently on the television. The men and woman stop their usual duties to stare in shock, but at the same time, tempted by the green and silver objects that have made their way to the ground with the help of gravity. You wonder if what you're doing now, and have done in the last 15 minutes is due to a mental instability. Nevertheless, you enjoy what you're doing.

Your mom comes back, not long afterwards. After seeing this display of craziness, she grabs you by your ear and pulls you into the car, locking the door as if you're unable to unlock it yourself. You even wonder if you're able to do that.

She picks up the money, then returns to the vehicle. Scowling at you, but after a while, her face becomes a mild expression of worriedness.

"I'm taking you to a phsychiatrist!" She says furiously.

"But mom..."

"No BUTS!"

You slump into your chair and cross your arms, sulking. If only she'd listen to you for once, sulking to you is usually the answer. But not this time, perhaps crying could help change her answer?