Weekends over once my Da crashes into the room.
"Hands off rocks and onto socks" he barks
Old soldier saying from the Lebanon. He once traded his boots for a slab of cans with a local. The spoils of war.
Jump out of bed, hands firmly off me rocks, grab them socks. White ones with black shoes and charcoal slacks. Look like a clown, plan to act like one too.
Grab some toast and a cup of tea. Out the door before five to nine.
Hop into me Da's banged up, silver Corolla. He never cared much for cars, found his pleasure in the sun instead.
"I work all year you best believe I'm laying in the sun for two weeks to do nothing"
LMFM on the radio, Fat Farrelly on the mic talking shite while Da curses him out. He still listens every morning.
Down the road, turn left up the hill, keep straight until you see three connected sheds disguised as a school. Even the Joy looks better.
Hop out the passenger side, "right Da see ya later"
Sneak through the school doors at three minutes past 9.
"Leavy! Why are you late? Get up to the office and sign in!"
F**k sake, another week in paradise.
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