A Diabolically Messy Microphone

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 As Logged By:

Agent Rose

 

Mommy won't stop squealing.

She hasn't noticed how I'm feeling.

 Go away and let me rest

I tell you I'm not feeling my best.

 

"Try it," she insists.

 What will happen if she persists?

A new microphone?

If only she'd have known. 

 

 "AH!  It's here!"
 
Oh, please.  Be quiet, Mommy.
 
"Rosie!  Did you hear!  It's here!  It's here!"
 
Please, for the love of poopy, be quiet.  
 
Can't she see that there are circles under my eyes?  That my glow has dulled?  That my oomph has gone kapoof?
 
Mommy, stop running around and take a look at me.  Feel my forehead, offer me a drink.  I'm sick I tell you.  I need some rest.  So, please...
 
STOP YELLING, YOU CRAZY LADY!
 
"Ooh, I've been waiting for it to arrive, so I can set it up," Mommy explains without a second's notice of how I'm clearly sick.  "Did you know that I used to do voice-overs?  Have I never told you that?"
 
I don't know and, frankly, I don't really care right now.  All this diabolical cutie wants is some shut eye.  Some sleep, some time to recover from whatever bug has sneaked into my system.
 
"Man, I used to love doing voice-overs.  Oh, I missed it.  That's why I'm treating myself and bought a new MICROPHONE!"
 
My ears!  Please, Lord, please stop this woman from screaming anymore.
 
"I'm not going to wait any longer.  I'm going to set it up."
 
Good for you.
 
Now, let me go.  I may be sick, but the will to get away from you is stronger.  I'll crawl back to my bed on my own.  Anything to not have to listen to you a second longer.
 
"No, don't leave yet!"  Mommy yanks me back before I can make my escape.  "You've got to try this out.  It's so much fun!"
 
I turn to glare at her, but Mommy doesn't notice.  She's having too much fun setting up this microphone.  I swat a slap, I bat a fist, but nothing gives Mommy a big enough hint.
 
"Here, it's all set up.  Check this out...  Hello."
 
"Hello," the computer plays the recording back.
 
That's it?  That's what you've dragged me out of bed and tortured me for?  A device that can record your voice?  I already hear enough of you.  I don't need a recording.  I don't need double your voice.
 
"I'm Mommy and I enjoy...."  She records herself again. 
 
Meanwhile, something is starting to feel very off.  Something isn't sitting right. 
 
"Go ahead, Rosie.  Give it a try."
 
I push the stick out of my face.  I need to lie down.  Now!
 
"Go ahead," she insists.
 
I take one look at the annoying microphone.  The beast that has stolen my sleep.  All I want is to go back to bed or else this baby may just...
 
 BBBLLLLLEEEEKKKKKKKKKK!
 
"AAAAAHHHHHH!"  Mommy screeches.  "You puked all over my new microphone."
 
Oopsies.  
 
Now, may I finally go back to bed? 
 
 
 

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