Our lives are filled with stuff we said we’d do and then regret. Work. Marriage. Kids. Dusting. It never ends. I mean, who was born with a dust rag in their hand? Not me. But somehow it’s ended up being a crucial part of daily living. Dust, wipe, scrub, vacuum, sweep, wash, sigh. And what is it about dust? I mean, you only just dampen it down and wipe it away, turn your back and poof it’s back with a vengeance. I think sometimes people bail out from society and go live off the grid because then they don’t have to fight the dust battle anymore.
Distraught parents: “But we paid for college and everything!!”
Him: “I told you I didn’t want to be a Domestic Engineer!”
DP: “We educated you the best we could to be the best you could - you can go all the way to the top as a servant! We saw the movies! That butler worked in the White House!”
Him: “I don’t want to go to the top. I want to stay firmly and happily on the bottom.”
DP: “Where is your ambition! We worked night and day to raise you!”
Him: “Hardly. I do have ambition. It’s just not the same as your ambition for me. Why should I do what you want me to do with the rest of my life? Isn’t it my life?”
DP: “Not while you’re living under this roof, young man!”
Him: “Easily solved. I have my backpack packed and my sleeping bag rolled.”
DP: “But what will you do for money? How will you eat?”
Him: “I’ll work as I need to. Odd jobs. Cut lawns. Mend roofs. Fix cars.”
DP: “That’s it, you’re giving up?”
Him: “I’m not giving up, I’m getting out. I will no longer…” moves closer, eyeing them, saying intensely, “I will no longer Dust. No. Never.”
DP (wailing): “We no longer have a son. Oh gawd, what will the neighbours think. And Grandma. Grandpa. Oh, the shame! You’ll leave us all alone? If the Dust gets too heavy, it will be YOUR fault.”
Him (screen door slams, from outside): “Buy one of those swift-things.”
DP’s collapse on the floor, inconsolable. Even then, a wisp of dust drifts towards them. Hashtag cueeeriemusic.
~
