Singed Synapses and Deranged Dendrites

What to Write (#debate)

Oh, goodness what to write?

Paralyzed by indecision, Fransisca stood there, rooted to the spot. Others walked past as if living on cloud nine. How could they not feel her pain? Mothers cooed at their infants who squealed back in delight. Older children ran after each other zigzagging around adults who mostly stood still pondering their choices with quiet dignity. Neighbors bumped into each other and hugged. They clearly didn't face the daily hell that Fransisca was experiencing. She pulled at her hair in frustration. It was relentless the onslaught. Day after day the same questions–what to make for dinner? Should she make meatloaf again? Pasta? Slowly she pushed her cart down the aisle.

"I guess it's chicken again tonight," she murmured to no one in particular.

Too close to home. Remember this?

Vivan and her sister began to argue and their parents were too exhausted to stop them.

"I don't want to see that movie, it's too scary?" said Vivian. She secretly wanted something more romantic.

"What are you five?" said her older sister. "I'm not watching some baby movie."

Vivan's father was trying to keep a low profile. He was browsing the documentary section of the video store, knowing full well that nobody would agree to a documentary. He would give in to whatever his wife and daughters picked out.

"Girls, can we agree on something soon," said Vivian's mother piping in.

"We've been at the store for almost thirty minutes already. Too much longer and it is going to be too late to watch a movie."

"Well, Vivan won't agree on anything," complained her sister.

"Not true," said Vivian, tears pricking her eyes.

"I think we should go with Home Alone 2," said their mother.

The two teenage girls finally agreed even though they had all just seen it a few weeks ago.

This must happen everywhere.

Ronald looked at his phone. His mother had texted him.

You're late, curfew it's 10pm.

Please mom can't I say out until 11?

No!

Everyone else has a curfew of midnight!

You have school tomorrow. Get your butt home now!

Ronald turned to his girlfriend.

"My mom is being a wet blanket," he said. "I'd better drive you home."

"Ok," said Rose.

Ronald set the coordinates of his father's ship to planet Biznor.

"You might want to strap in before we get past light speed," he said.

Rose wriggled the seatbelt across her ​voluptuous torso and smiled at Ronald. He placed a tentacle around his girlfriend's shoulder and hit the accelerator.

I'll get home before curfew yet, he thought.