Classwork

ABC

All stupid ideas begin with one word. Benign and innocent as they may seem, someone always takes the fall.

"CARL," she screamed, "GET DOWN FROM THERE."

Dreamily, Carl looked up to see his mother waving up at him from the ground. Everything seemed so small to the young boy, who was now on top of his house. Forgetting about the danger, he jumped with a simple, "Catch me, mommy!" Grey, startled eyes just barely recognized her son's flying form and she struggled to catch her son before he hit the ground.

He was heavy, too heavy for her, but she managed to slow him just enough. If she hadn't, she didn't know what she would've done. Just after he landed, he began to bawl.

"Kelly said it would work," he sniffled, "why does it huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuurt?" Laboriously, he struggled to catch his breath, since the fall had knocked the wind out of him. "Mommyyyyyyy, kiss it and make it better."

Not wasting a moment, she carried him inside and set him down on the old brown couch. "Of course, Carly, now, where does it hurt?"

"P-please?" he asked, not entirely sure. Questions were usually easy for Carl, but he didn't know the answer this time.

"Right then," she began, kissing all over his face, "does that make it better?"

Satisfied, though still hurting, Carl nodded. Tears still fell from his eyes, and his breath still came irregularly, but he was alright enough.

"Unless I tell you to, don't ever do that again, okay?"

Very gravely and slow, he nodded. "Won't."

Xylophone music filled their ears, and she picked up her phone. "Y-ello?" and after a moment of pause, "Zamn."