A Free Writing About the Game, “Simon Says.”
“Who is Simon?”I whispered to Helena as she tried to wrap up an exhausting game of “Simon says,” with her class. Helena looked exhausted and smelled like pretty sweat and grass. Her face looked so red and flushed it was as if she was a child which, was not a good look with all these kids running around.
Usually, Helena would whisper-yell for me stop talking like that in front of the kids, but this time she seemed to annoyed to care. I decided to test her and light up a cigarette, teasing her anger while at the same time making sure she wasn’t in a trance.
Helena grabbed by cigarette and took a long drag that left the white casing of the filter wet with sweat and stained like I was drinking yellow coffee.
“I have no fucking idea.” Helena said while still keeping watch over the four kids and the carpool lane simultaneously.
“About what?”I retorted couching itchy smoke twitching my nose.
“Simon, in this fucking game.I mean who the fuck is Simon to think he can just go telling people the shit they should do. And why does Simon have to be a man? Just cause “Simon,” doesn’t sound as harsh as Thomas doesn’t mean the underlying issue isn’t present. The ironic thing is that Simon doesn’t realize the only time we don’t pay enough attention is when his mother fucking name is in front of it. Helena’s back was facing the leftover kids who waved bye silently pretending to smoke cigarettes with their hands as they walked towards their mom’s white minivan.
“huuuh makes me sick.”Helena grasped on to the Simon topic for dear life.
“I mean, if the game was called “Samantha says,” all the little boys would say, “Who the fuck is Samantha? That bitch can’t tell me what to do.”
“It’s over Helena, the whole Simon thing it’s over.” We started to walk towards my car in unison, thinking of what to say next.
“Well I quit today.” Helena waited for my shock and jump of frightful UN discovered questions.
“I knew it was coming, you never liked kids.” I smiled that knowing smile that is inviting and condescending at the same time. Helena started cracking up and tears rolled down her cheeks.
“I know I can’t stand the little fuckers!” she laughed harder and then her face went blank and frozen as if she just realized she was having a baby right there in front of my car and had forgotten about it.
“Then why did I tell people that I loved kids all the time?” Helena looked worried about her next step she was so over fraught with the “not making sense” of it all.
“Now that, I have no fucking clue.”I laughed and spent twenty minutes convincing Helena why her ploy to convince herself and others for most of her life that she loved working and being around kids is more of a cry for help than be completely destructs out of control.
This article was written in springnote.