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malibu
end of august
"screwdriver."
"uh.... screwdriver."
"monkey wrench. six inches."
"monkey wrench.... six inches. here."
"pliers."
"pliers."
"....and that's it for today," my dad announced, backing up from the car engine.
i smiled and began cleaning up some of the work equipment. my dad fell back in his chair and drank his green protein shake. (if you could call it that)
he's been drinking it for a few months now, and every time i looked at it, i resisted the urge to barf. something about it bothered me. a lot.
"that's disgusting," i said not even looking at it.
my dad rolled his eyes, and didn't even bother with a response. i told him that every time he drank it. by now, he learned to ignore it.
"sir, miss stark," the voice of J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded.
"what is it bud?" my dad asked, spinning in his chair.
"there appears to be a heat signature that just.... appeared in the kitchen."
"what do you mean, appeared?" my dad asked as he came to a stop.
"i mean it came into sight; becoming visible or noticeable, typically without visible agent or apparent cause," the a.i. sassed.
"hah!" i laughed at J.A.R.V.I.S.' sass. the more human he was treated, the more human he became.
my dad rolled his eyes, "so it wasn't there, and then it was?"
