IT'S MY TURN COPYRIGHT 2013 RZEVANS
Things had been building up, to the point that Shelly had seen a family psychologist. Her husband refused to go, so she had gone by herself. Some of the things the psychologist told her she already knew, but he put a new perspective on the probvlem. From the days of her youth, she had never asserted herself, not with her little sister, not with her mom, and not even with her twin brother. The psychologist told her she could go on living the way she had been living until she couldn't take it anymore, or she could do something about it. He said when she finally made a move, it couldn't be something timid but would have to be bold to have an effect; she would have to show some anger.
She hadn't wanted to go to the mountains, she hadn't wanted a big SUV, she hadn't wanted a giant size TV; what she did want was a separate computer, just like the one they now had. She enjoyed writing, categorizing her photos, printing enlargements, but it was always, "Not now, Shelly, I want to play another game, later maybe." She had always meekly said ok.
Bruce worked all day; well, she worked all day too and wanted to relax after the dishes were done, but it was, "No, Shelly, we can't afford another computer."
There had been a problem with space for the computer speakers, so from a neighborhood garage sale she had obtained a sturdy table that she placed to the right of the small computer desk. She decided the table would be partial recepient of the anger that she was going to express. She found some identical speakers at the discount store that had been marked for clearance plus a really ugly coconut man with a pipe suck in his mouth. She placed an old table cloth, that Bruce's mother had made, on the table, and then she place the speakers on each corner with the coconut man in the middle. On the window sill, in easy reach, she placed a two foot section of galvanized pipe from Bruce's work bench.
That Wednesday evening the unsuspecting Bruce assumed his usual position in front of the computer. After an hour of his games, Shelly said, "It's my turn, Bruce." When he said not now Shelly, she grabbed the iron pipe, and pieces of plastic and coconut flew everywhere. As she was banging away at the table, she shouted, "It's my turn dammit."
With a startled look, Bruce jumped up and backed toward the door, "Ok! ok! I'll be back in a minute, you can have the new one. I'll help you transfer the photos."
Things had been building up, to the point that Shelly had seen a family psychologist. Her husband refused to go, so she had gone by herself. Some of the things the psychologist told her she already knew, but he put a new perspective on the probvlem. From the days of her youth, she had never asserted herself, not with her little sister, not with her mom, and not even with her twin brother. The psychologist told her she could go on living the way she had been living until she couldn't take it anymore, or she could do something about it. He said when she finally made a move, it couldn't be something timid but would have to be bold to have an effect; she would have to show some anger.
She hadn't wanted to go to the mountains, she hadn't wanted a big SUV, she hadn't wanted a giant size TV; what she did want was a separate computer, just like the one they now had. She enjoyed writing, categorizing her photos, printing enlargements, but it was always, "Not now, Shelly, I want to play another game, later maybe." She had always meekly said ok.
Bruce worked all day; well, she worked all day too and wanted to relax after the dishes were done, but it was, "No, Shelly, we can't afford another computer."
There had been a problem with space for the computer speakers, so from a neighborhood garage sale she had obtained a sturdy table that she placed to the right of the small computer desk. She decided the table would be partial recepient of the anger that she was going to express. She found some identical speakers at the discount store that had been marked for clearance plus a really ugly coconut man with a pipe suck in his mouth. She placed an old table cloth, that Bruce's mother had made, on the table, and then she place the speakers on each corner with the coconut man in the middle. On the window sill, in easy reach, she placed a two foot section of galvanized pipe from Bruce's work bench.
That Wednesday evening the unsuspecting Bruce assumed his usual position in front of the computer. After an hour of his games, Shelly said, "It's my turn, Bruce." When he said not now Shelly, she grabbed the iron pipe, and pieces of plastic and coconut flew everywhere. As she was banging away at the table, she shouted, "It's my turn dammit."
With a startled look, Bruce jumped up and backed toward the door, "Ok! ok! I'll be back in a minute, you can have the new one. I'll help you transfer the photos."