-"Shut up four eyes; I'm talking to four ears."

-"Well with four ears I can ignore you twice as hard!"

Introduction-

"Well, if you're going to stay here you have to get a job, Logan!"

I ignore my mother and continue up the steps.

"This is the second time you've been kicked out of college! You can't just keep mooching off of us for the rest of your life! You need motive! You need-" I slam the door and cut her off. I'm tired of hearing her bitch at me constantly. I mean, it's not my fault my ex-French teacher was a complete dick. In a way, he sort of had me filling his car with bees coming. You can't just scream at students in French, you know? It doesn't do well for our self-esteem.

I sit my bags down and sigh. Turn the TV on, flip through a few channels, and turn it off, plug in my Ipod. I had missed my old room. Mom, for what little she does for me, at least didn't turn it into a gym or some shit like certain parents do. At least I have that.

"Hey, Logan?" Mom's timid voice drift through my now cracked door. "I'm sorry, it's just, you know how I get when I don't take my meds and I'm a little stressed out right now with your dad's work, and-"

She continues on like this for about another 10 minutes. My mother has a real talent for trying to make you feel sorry for her. Of course after 23 years of it the effect has worn off on me.

"But I'd really appreciate it if you'd put in some applications, Logan. We could do it together! It'll be fun. So here." She pulls out a newspaper and starts flipping through. "Okay, so we've got lobster catcher; hmm no, you get too sea sick. Billboard painter? Nah, you don't have that kind of talent. Maybe-"

I sit up in my bed and look her dead in the eye. "Mom," I say, "Dad grosses over 200k a year. We live in one of the richest districts in America. We are members of the fucking yacht club. I do not need a job."

"Do not use that language around me, Logan!" She stands up and throws the newspaper down in my lap. "Listen, this isn't about the money. This is about teaching you responsibility. You got held back once in eight grade and twice your senior year. It's not like you're stupid Logan; you just don't try! Maybe if you go out and get a job you can learn the value of a dollar. And don't even try to convince your father of letting you back out of this; he's the one that came up with the idea."

She turns on her heel and exits. My mother also has a talent for drama. I swear, she could win an Oscar if she lost 20 pounds, had a little work done, and set her mind to it. I reach for the paper with full intentions of it becoming the next object in my trash can, but then I stop.

The Belcher family is standing in front of their restaurant. God, I can't believe that place is still opened, I figured the FDA or fire department or something would have shut them down by now. I pick the paper up and examine it closer. Linda and Bob had aged greatly, with lines coating their faces and grey in their hair. The oldest one –Tina I think her name was- wasn't in the picture. She probably got arrested for sexual harassment. Gene had grown to be almost a spitting image of his father, minus the mustache.

And then there was little Louise. Well, she wasn't so little anymore. Yes, she had aged quite nicely over the year I'd been gone. Her shape had definitely filled out more; now accentuated with a tight green sweater and a pair of black leggings. Her hair was longer now worn just straight down in little waves instead of pigtails, and oh my fucking god the bunny hat. She still wore it. Seventeen years old and wearing a pink bunny hat. May the lord help her for whenever I see her again, because he knows what hell I'm going to give her for it.

Wait. Maybe getting a job won't be so bad. A slow smile creeps up on my face as I start to cut the add out of the paper. Yeah, I think I'm going to really enjoy working actually.