COVID Senior Lockdown, Day 63

Imagine you’re a kid in the back seat of the family sedan. It’s crowded and your sister in the middle seat is in your space. But you’re headed to the beach and that’s a good thing and so you behave. Dad says it won’t be long, whatever that means in Dad terms ‘cause you don’t drive. After a while, you need to pee.

Dad, can we stop for a bathroom?
Sure, sonny. There’s a stop in about twenty minutes.

Twenty minutes later, whatever that means in Dad terms, you see the gas station approaching and rejoice. Great. That wasn’t so bad. Relief is in sight. Dad zooms right past.

Dad?
That one wasn’t clean enough. There’ll be another in another twenty minutes.

Oh, all right. You shift in your seat, smack your sister and sit quietly because Dad knows best. Twenty minutes later, another gas station appears and you’re proud of yourself for toughing it out like a good boy. This one looks bright and clean and you’re sure Dad will stop. But he keeps going.

Uh, Dad?
Not the right one.
Why?
Just not.
But, I really have to pee.
Not long now. Dad knows best. Probably forty minutes, fifty max.
Sigh.

At this point, you’re starting to feel real pain. You’re crossing your legs and squirming in your seatbelt and your sister is teasing you about your peepee and you smack her again and scrunch back into your increasingly uncomfortable seat and then you start to fear that Dad Will Never Stop. You pass two more gas stations and a park with trees and you don’t understand why Dad hasn’t stopped but he knows best and then…

You hear Dad go BWAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA and see in the rear view mirror that his eyes are spinning and spittel is running down his chin.

This is the Lockdown.