Slipping
All work no play may have
made Jack a dull boy,
But all work no God
has left Jack with a lost soul.
But he's moving on full steam,
He's chasing the American Dream.
He's gonna give his family
The finer things.
"Not this time son, I've no time to waste.
Maybe tomorrow we'll have time to play."
Yawning, Percy got up from his warm bed. He methodically got dressed and stumbled downstairs. Blearily, he reached for the pot of coffee and the Daily Prophet.
"Good morning, Perce," his wife called from the kitchen as she made breakfast.
"Morning, Penelope," he mumbled back. "Bacon and eggs, I presume?" she asked. He nodded in the affirmative as he voraciously read the paper. He didn't look up as Penelope placed a plate of food in front of him but mechanically ate.
"Hi mom! Hi dad!" an annoyingly chipper voice sounded. Glancing up, he called a quiet hello at his five year old son. He returned to the paper as his wife fussed over their little boy. The clatter of silverware on the table prompted him to look up. Percy briefly smiled as he saw David tear into his eggs.
"You remind me of Uncle Ron," he informed the boy.
"Really?" he asked, delighted.
Percy nodded, "He always has that same expression on his face whenever he eats; pure joy." David's high laugh grated on his nerves. He gave him one last thin smile before returning to his paper.
"Umm, dad?"
Once again, Percy looked over the Prophet. "Yes?" he asked, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet.
"I really want to try out that broom that Uncle Harry got me for my birthday. There was no time yesterday. Could you teach me?"
Percy shook his head. "I have work," he explained. "And I was never interested in brooms." He looked down again so as not to see the crestfallen expression he knew was on his son's face.
"Oh, alright then."
David went back to eating, this time subdued.
Sighing, Percy acquiesced. "Fine, I will teach you how to ride. Just not today; tomorrow." He smiled as he heard a squeal of joy.
Tomorrow...
"Dad?" David slipped into the study, broom in hand. He spied his dad frantically scribbling at his desk. "Dad? You said you would teach me to ride."
Looking up, dazed, Percy focused on David. "Oh, right. I can't." He went back to his writing.
David scowled and demanded, "You promised!"
Without pausing, Percy replied, "Yes, but something came up. I can't stop right now."
David sighed and slipped out of the study. He quietly ran to his room. Throwing his broom on the floor, he fell on his bed and cried.
Then he slips into his new BMW
And drives farther and farther and farther away.
'Cause he works all day
And tries to sleep at night
He says things will get better,
Better in time.
So he works and he builds
with his own two hands
And he pours all he has
in a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain
are coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
This American Dream is beginning to seem
More and more like a nightmare
With every passing day.
"Daddy, can you come to my game?"
"Oh baby, please don't work up late."
Another wasted weekend
And they are slipping away.
Percy irritably pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose. He glared at the parchment, wondering where to begin. Frowning, he picked up a quill and scratched out a few words.
"Dad?" he heard behind him. Scowling, he turned in his chair and saw his seven year old son.
"Yes, David?" he asked.
"Well, uh," he began. At his father's darkening expression, he hurriedly continued, "Today's my team's first Quidditch match. I was wondering if, after work, you could come watch. It starts at 4, and I know that you don't get home from work until 5, but if it is still going, could you please come watch?" He finished in a rush, looking at his father with pleading eyes.
Percy sighed and pushed his glasses up again. David hung his head. He already knew the answer. "I'm sorry, David," Percy began. "You know how important this project is." David nodded his head and slowly walked out of the study. Percy hesitated at his son's utter dejection. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Hardening his face, he turned back to his parchment and furiously continued.
'Cause he works all day
And lays awake at night.
He tells them things will get better,
Just take a little more time.
Nights were hard. No matter what he did, Percy could never go to sleep. He had tried potions, but they only gave him restless sleep; they were no good. He sighed in annoyance and turned on his side. Closing his eyes, he fruitlessly tried to clear his mind. But it was in vain. He couldn't stop thinking about this paper and that book he needed and how he would get up in the world. Eventually his stirrings woke his wife.
"Percy, are you alright?" she asked in concern. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "You know I don't like you working this much. It's affecting us, too."
He sighed. "I know, Penelope. I'm doing this for you and David. I'm close. Soon I can relax and spent time with you two."
She didn't answer. Instead, she resettled herself in the bed, facing the other way.
So he works and he builds
with his own two hands
And he pours all he has
in a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain
are coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
They used to say whoever died
with the most toys wins,
But if he loses his soul
What has he gained in the end?
I'd take a shack on a rock
Over a castle in the sand.
"I can't take it anymore!" she yelled at him.
He yelled back at her, "Why are you being so selfish? I work myself half to death at work and at home and this is the thanks I get?!"
Penelope gasped in surprise. "Selfish? Me?!! You are never home! I doubt you would remember your own son's name if he didn't keep trying to get you to spend time with him!"
"Where do you think I am, Penelope? I'm out there keeping Galleons in Gringotts! For you!"
"We don't need them! All we need is you, Percy. We have enough! Why keep trying for more? You're not going to get it!"
Percy flinched as if he had been struck. "Are you saying I'm not good enough for this family?" he barked, eyes flashing dangerously.
"No, I'm saying you aren't part of this family!!" Penelope shot back with venom.
Percy sputtered in shock. "What do you mean?"
Penelope glared at him, but answered in a calmer tone, "You are never home. Sometimes you are gone for days. You have never seen one of your son's Quidditch games. You are always too busy. I run myself ragged to do everything around the house. But the worst thing, Percy, the very worst thing, was when you didn't even show your only son off to Hogwarts. Do you even know what House he got into?"
"You see, Penelope, I had-"
"You had a meeting. Or a paper due. Or there was an emergency. There was always something. Never once did you clear your schedule."
Percy drew himself up to his full height. "Then we agree to disagree."
Penelope shook her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. She walked up to her husband and kissed his gently on the cheek. "No," she drew back, "I told you, I cannot take it any longer."
Percy watched in shock as she gathered up all of her things with a wave of her wand. He watched as she quietly walked out of the front door.
'Cause he works all day and
Cries alone at night.
It's not getting any better
Feels like he's running out of time.
'Cause he worked and he built
with his own two hands
And he poured all he had
for a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain are
coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
All I really wanted was you.
"I'm sorry, Penelope," he whispered.
All I really wanted was you.
"You were right all along."
All I really wanted was you.
Percy left the room, tears making their way down his face. It had been a few days since the fight. She had been right. He had never paid enough attention to either one of them. It had taken several days and a letter to reconcile the fact.
Dear Dad;
Hogwarts is great. The classes are really fun and I know I'm learning a lot. Uncle Harry and Ron were exaggerating when they described the Potions Professor. Professor Snape is strict and not very fair, but nothing to the extent that they were describing. He is not sure what to think of me, but I'm being extra polite.
I think Potions is my favorite class, though I do like Transfiguration. I didn't get into Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat said that I wanted to prove myself. That I wanted to be noticed and be the best that I can. I don't care what everyone else thinks; I'm happy in Slytherin.
This popped into my head one day when I was listening to music. I couldn't get it out. I know that Percy isn't written much about, so I didn't try to live up to any standards. I was just, me. The song is called American Dream by Casting Stones. It has some awesome guitar work and the tone is very catchy. It sounds much better with the music! I highly recommend it.
All work no play may have
made Jack a dull boy,
But all work no God
has left Jack with a lost soul.
But he's moving on full steam,
He's chasing the American Dream.
He's gonna give his family
The finer things.
"Not this time son, I've no time to waste.
Maybe tomorrow we'll have time to play."
Yawning, Percy got up from his warm bed. He methodically got dressed and stumbled downstairs. Blearily, he reached for the pot of coffee and the Daily Prophet.
"Good morning, Perce," his wife called from the kitchen as she made breakfast.
"Morning, Penelope," he mumbled back. "Bacon and eggs, I presume?" she asked. He nodded in the affirmative as he voraciously read the paper. He didn't look up as Penelope placed a plate of food in front of him but mechanically ate.
"Hi mom! Hi dad!" an annoyingly chipper voice sounded. Glancing up, he called a quiet hello at his five year old son. He returned to the paper as his wife fussed over their little boy. The clatter of silverware on the table prompted him to look up. Percy briefly smiled as he saw David tear into his eggs.
"You remind me of Uncle Ron," he informed the boy.
"Really?" he asked, delighted.
Percy nodded, "He always has that same expression on his face whenever he eats; pure joy." David's high laugh grated on his nerves. He gave him one last thin smile before returning to his paper.
"Umm, dad?"
Once again, Percy looked over the Prophet. "Yes?" he asked, wanting nothing more than peace and quiet.
"I really want to try out that broom that Uncle Harry got me for my birthday. There was no time yesterday. Could you teach me?"
Percy shook his head. "I have work," he explained. "And I was never interested in brooms." He looked down again so as not to see the crestfallen expression he knew was on his son's face.
"Oh, alright then."
David went back to eating, this time subdued.
Sighing, Percy acquiesced. "Fine, I will teach you how to ride. Just not today; tomorrow." He smiled as he heard a squeal of joy.
Tomorrow...
"Dad?" David slipped into the study, broom in hand. He spied his dad frantically scribbling at his desk. "Dad? You said you would teach me to ride."
Looking up, dazed, Percy focused on David. "Oh, right. I can't." He went back to his writing.
David scowled and demanded, "You promised!"
Without pausing, Percy replied, "Yes, but something came up. I can't stop right now."
David sighed and slipped out of the study. He quietly ran to his room. Throwing his broom on the floor, he fell on his bed and cried.
Then he slips into his new BMW
And drives farther and farther and farther away.
'Cause he works all day
And tries to sleep at night
He says things will get better,
Better in time.
So he works and he builds
with his own two hands
And he pours all he has
in a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain
are coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
This American Dream is beginning to seem
More and more like a nightmare
With every passing day.
"Daddy, can you come to my game?"
"Oh baby, please don't work up late."
Another wasted weekend
And they are slipping away.
Percy irritably pushed his horn-rimmed glasses back up his nose. He glared at the parchment, wondering where to begin. Frowning, he picked up a quill and scratched out a few words.
"Dad?" he heard behind him. Scowling, he turned in his chair and saw his seven year old son.
"Yes, David?" he asked.
"Well, uh," he began. At his father's darkening expression, he hurriedly continued, "Today's my team's first Quidditch match. I was wondering if, after work, you could come watch. It starts at 4, and I know that you don't get home from work until 5, but if it is still going, could you please come watch?" He finished in a rush, looking at his father with pleading eyes.
Percy sighed and pushed his glasses up again. David hung his head. He already knew the answer. "I'm sorry, David," Percy began. "You know how important this project is." David nodded his head and slowly walked out of the study. Percy hesitated at his son's utter dejection. He opened his mouth, but closed it again. Hardening his face, he turned back to his parchment and furiously continued.
'Cause he works all day
And lays awake at night.
He tells them things will get better,
Just take a little more time.
Nights were hard. No matter what he did, Percy could never go to sleep. He had tried potions, but they only gave him restless sleep; they were no good. He sighed in annoyance and turned on his side. Closing his eyes, he fruitlessly tried to clear his mind. But it was in vain. He couldn't stop thinking about this paper and that book he needed and how he would get up in the world. Eventually his stirrings woke his wife.
"Percy, are you alright?" she asked in concern. She placed her hands on his shoulders. "You know I don't like you working this much. It's affecting us, too."
He sighed. "I know, Penelope. I'm doing this for you and David. I'm close. Soon I can relax and spent time with you two."
She didn't answer. Instead, she resettled herself in the bed, facing the other way.
So he works and he builds
with his own two hands
And he pours all he has
in a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain
are coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
They used to say whoever died
with the most toys wins,
But if he loses his soul
What has he gained in the end?
I'd take a shack on a rock
Over a castle in the sand.
"I can't take it anymore!" she yelled at him.
He yelled back at her, "Why are you being so selfish? I work myself half to death at work and at home and this is the thanks I get?!"
Penelope gasped in surprise. "Selfish? Me?!! You are never home! I doubt you would remember your own son's name if he didn't keep trying to get you to spend time with him!"
"Where do you think I am, Penelope? I'm out there keeping Galleons in Gringotts! For you!"
"We don't need them! All we need is you, Percy. We have enough! Why keep trying for more? You're not going to get it!"
Percy flinched as if he had been struck. "Are you saying I'm not good enough for this family?" he barked, eyes flashing dangerously.
"No, I'm saying you aren't part of this family!!" Penelope shot back with venom.
Percy sputtered in shock. "What do you mean?"
Penelope glared at him, but answered in a calmer tone, "You are never home. Sometimes you are gone for days. You have never seen one of your son's Quidditch games. You are always too busy. I run myself ragged to do everything around the house. But the worst thing, Percy, the very worst thing, was when you didn't even show your only son off to Hogwarts. Do you even know what House he got into?"
"You see, Penelope, I had-"
"You had a meeting. Or a paper due. Or there was an emergency. There was always something. Never once did you clear your schedule."
Percy drew himself up to his full height. "Then we agree to disagree."
Penelope shook her head, tears glimmering in her eyes. She walked up to her husband and kissed his gently on the cheek. "No," she drew back, "I told you, I cannot take it any longer."
Percy watched in shock as she gathered up all of her things with a wave of her wand. He watched as she quietly walked out of the front door.
'Cause he works all day and
Cries alone at night.
It's not getting any better
Feels like he's running out of time.
'Cause he worked and he built
with his own two hands
And he poured all he had
for a castle made of sand.
But the wind and the rain are
coming crashing in.
Time will tell just how long
his kingdom stands.
His kingdom stands.
All I really wanted was you.
"I'm sorry, Penelope," he whispered.
All I really wanted was you.
"You were right all along."
All I really wanted was you.
Percy left the room, tears making their way down his face. It had been a few days since the fight. She had been right. He had never paid enough attention to either one of them. It had taken several days and a letter to reconcile the fact.
Dear Dad;
Hogwarts is great. The classes are really fun and I know I'm learning a lot. Uncle Harry and Ron were exaggerating when they described the Potions Professor. Professor Snape is strict and not very fair, but nothing to the extent that they were describing. He is not sure what to think of me, but I'm being extra polite.
I think Potions is my favorite class, though I do like Transfiguration. I didn't get into Gryffindor. The Sorting Hat said that I wanted to prove myself. That I wanted to be noticed and be the best that I can. I don't care what everyone else thinks; I'm happy in Slytherin.
This popped into my head one day when I was listening to music. I couldn't get it out. I know that Percy isn't written much about, so I didn't try to live up to any standards. I was just, me. The song is called American Dream by Casting Stones. It has some awesome guitar work and the tone is very catchy. It sounds much better with the music! I highly recommend it.