Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
He’s getting the full works today. We’re having a joint first year of college in the books/robotics company that’s still yet to be named since there are several that War can’t choose between celebration.
“I’ll go and start bringing everything out,” Mom says, which immediately triggers a flurry of activity. My dad fires up the barbeque, Booty Sue keeps wide-eyed hooing at the robot dog making its way to her, and I trail Mom into the house to help.
Granny follows closely after me and takes my arm just inside the open patio door.
“I can tell that you’re both so in love! I’m so darned happy for you, Malphie.”
I brace for something wildly inappropriate to come out of her mouth, but all I get is a big denture grin. She can’t hide the twinkling in her eyes, and sure enough, as Mom starts taking wrapped dishes and plastic containers out of the fridge, she elbows me in the side.
“You rizzed him with your granddaughter ‘tism!”
“Oh my lord, Granny, you should have your tablet confiscated. How do you even know that term?”
“The best part is, the whole home knows it now. I have Irene saying it just about constantly. She’s also learned terms like DILF and zaddie. I’m proud to be a terrible influence. If you’re not having fun, then what’s life even for?”
“You’re right.” I side-hug her. “You’ve been right about everything.”
“Who would have thought that almost getting our legs broken could have wound up so well?”
“Here, you two. If you could take these…” Mom hands me three large plastic bowls stacked on top of each other. I hope their lids hold out. She gives Granny a huge, heaping plate of raw chicken drums. “And if you could deliver those to the barbeque, that would be wonderful.”
“Considering that I’m not into having salmonella for lunch, onto the low and slow they go!”
Knowing Dad, it will be more like flame thrower cooking, but he tries his best. A little char on the chicken never hurt anyone.
Outside, Granny passes the plate to my dad, and I set the bowls down on the picnic table. Within the next thirty minutes, the whole surface will get covered, and we’ll all find a place on the blanket, eating with our plates in our lap.
The sun is out, it’s a wonderful early June day, and my family is together.
Granny approaches War, who is trying to convince Booty Sue that the robot dog is a friend, not a foe. But Booty Sue keeps giving it her signature wide-eyed, worried looks.
“I was just saying to Malphie that it’s amazing what some thuggery did for this family.”
“Granny!” I have to try very hard not to laugh. It’s really not funny.
“What’s Reg doing with himself now?”
“Granny!” This time, my protest is half a warning, but she keeps smiling away innocently.
“He’s doing alright,” War responds.
He lets the robot dog walk off down the yard. He plans on changing the programming so it will stop for certain smells, just like a real dog. I suggested that he get it to pee and poo like a real dog. But he thought it might be better if he could develop a new prototype with a stomach that can be opened from the bottom so the dog can eat garbage as a way to help clean up, and then at home, it can be emptied out later.
“He’s taking finance classes. He took two years’ worth last year, and he’s taking summer classes and going to go for another full load next year. I think he needs to keep busy to keep himself out of trouble, but he’s really going for it. He did great, and as far as he’s said, he’s really enjoying it.”
“How’s his beastly mother?”
War knows Granny well enough by now not to be offended by that either. He’s probably heard more inappropriate things from her in the ten months we’ve known each other than from everyone else in his life combined.
“Candice is…I…well, she’s talking about possibly going to hair school. If she does, I think that would be wonderful. Everyone should pursue their passions and dreams.”
“You, darling, are far too kind.” She swats War lightly on the arm. “But seriously, you’re the best. You treat my granddaughter well, and you love her. One day, you’ll both give me the cutest tiny humans ever to walk this earth.” She sighs, drawing it out dramatically. “Can I ask when you’re getting started?”
“You cannot!” I wrinkle my nose in disapproval, but it only takes me a few seconds to burst out laughing.
“You do know where the meatloaf is supposed to go, right?” Granny asks.
“Goodness!” War turns about as crimson as the chicken my dad hasn’t even turned once, though it will be blackened.
“I have three years to go before I finish any kind of degree. I haven’t even decided what I want to major in yet, so maybe longer. Also, War is just getting the company up and running. We want to have time together, too, before we have children. There’s traveling, volunteering, getting a real dog, getting married, growing the company, graduating, finding our places in the world—” I’ve been ticking them all off on my fingers, but Granny shoves her hand in my face.