A powerful grunt rings out across the Huckabee estate. A final warning from Mike to his family that it’s time to start the day. His wife Janet, already awake for hours, descends the stairs to wake the children.
Despite the number of unused bedrooms in their large Floridian home, the fully-grown Huckabee brothers still insist on not only sharing a room, but a bed. Janet sits on its right side and begins to gently stroke the balding head of her eldest son, John.
No response.
She leans forward and whispers the names of his favorite foods to ease him into the waking world. Bacon. Thickburgers. Sriracha-coated drywall.
Nothing.
The boys’ California Raisins wall clock reads one in the afternoon, yet he still did not stir.
She begins to panic before reminding herself that this is an almost daily occurrence. She places her fingers inside the lowest fold of his neck, believing this to be the location of his carotid artery and where she could determine if his overworked and under appreciated heart had finally given up for good. She finds and removes two skittles (red, his favorite) and places them on the bedside table he had once made for a school project. It was the first project he had completed entirely on his own. It consisted of several Hungry-Man frozen dinner boxes neatly stacked and glued together. She had never been more proud.
She wipes her hand on her jean skirt, preparing to continue the search when John starts to choke. Presumably on his own spit or perhaps a snack that had been left in his mouth from the night before. She helps him sit. Her frail arms tremble. They nearly betray her. It is then that John lets out a loud, hacking cough, forcing him upright. Whatever had been lodged in his throat had broken free. He swallows it before she is able to investigate.
“It’s time to wake up,” Janet says softly, careful not to rouse her other adult son. “Do you remember what today is?” John Mark turns to his mother and slowly answers, “Wednesday. Today is… Wednesday.” “Yes. Yes that’s good, John. Very good,” she replies, even though it’s Sunday. “What I meant was,” she added, “do you remember what’s special about today?”
Silence. He stares at the two skittles on his Hungry-Man table and appears angry. Janet realizes he’s probably upset with her for looking in his neck wallet without permission. He’s likely considering an anger nap.
Then his eyes widen.
A slow realization creeps across his face. His breathing becomes louder, increasingly labored. He rolls in the opposite direction of his mother towards the still sleeping David. He places a hand on each side of his brother’s sweat-drenched face. They slip, one of them racing back to his own face, poking him in the eye. He reaches out again, this time each hand able to grip one of David’s cheeks.
He pulls him closer. Kisses him on the forehead. He whispers “Brother. Wake up. Today is Vacation.”
i fart huckabees 