My Father's a Homo

My Father's a Homo / Everyone Tells Jason to See a Psychiatrist

A/N: This is probably really bad, and very 'he said, she said', but nevertheless, I hope you enjoy.

For once I was more or less home alone. Marvin was at the psychiatrist, Mom was grocery shopping and Whizzer was in his room sorting out his photographs to submit to a gallery, I think. Whizzer wasn't gonna be coming out of there for a while. So I did what any pre-pubescent boy would do, I sat in the living room and wrote in my journal. Go figure.

So, my father's a homo. And Mom's not thrilled. Like, at all. But what about chromosomes? Do they carry? Will they carry? Who's the homo now? Not that I really have any problem with it, Whizzer's great and everything. It's just Marvin... is a prick.
Once my father said that I would grow up to be president. And that idea's not so wild. I mean, I don't exactly lead the life of a normal kid.
Mom says I'm too smart for my own good, and Marvin says I'm too good for my "sorry little life". My mother's no wife. And my father's no man. No man, at all.

I stopped writing and laid my journal aside. It was quarter to five. Everyone would probably be home soon; Whizzer had promised to be out of his and Marvin's room by half past five at the very latest, Mom had left about an hour ago, and Marvin's appointment finished at half past four. I'm more perceptive than they give me credit for.

I grabbed my chess set and began to play (with myself). It wasn't long before Mom came home. She quickly put away the groceries, and I thought for a moment that I heard her exchanging words with someone quickly, but I brushed it off. She came into the living room and knelt down beside me.

"Honey, why don't you go out and play?" she asked me.

I answered her, in an exasperated tone, "No!"

She sighed before continuing, "Sweetheart, I worry. Really, I do. I worry a lot. A lot." She paused, before making another proposition. "I could take you to the Jewish centre?"

I mocked throwing up off to the side. That certainly got the message across clearly.

"I think you like playing chess alone," she stated. "That's not normal."

"What is normal?" I answered back.

She shifted, visibly uncomfortable. "I wouldn't know. Why don't you speak on the telephone with anyone? Just get a friend- anyone." Oh, so does Whizzer not count now, all of a sudden? She let out a shaky breath before continuing. "Darling, please, see a psychiatrist. He's quite a guy, and I admire how he acts. No one is saying that you're some sort of sick neurotic. But you could find some help." I opened my mouth, about to interrupt. "Hear me out, please! I really think that you could find some help. He could help you realise how confused you are."

"Well, what does Daddy think?" I asked.

"You very well know, Jason, that while Daddy is sincere, he's a schmo," she answered. "Now, you and I must trust our emotions, and not make a big kerfuffle about it. Will you go?"

I turned to face her before responding, definitively, "No!"

Then, in walked Marvin. So I wasn't just imaging it when I heard Mom talking earlier.

"Jason please see a psychiatrist," he said, walking towards me and standing on my other side, facing Mom. "He just a psychiatrist. And hey- I'll pay the bill until you're old."

I looked towards him, saying, "No, I won't go."

"Darling, please listen to your father," Mom interrupted. Marvin had just been about to start speaking again, and he didn't look impressed. "He's not a genius type, Lord knows, but he knows what's true. He chose a man who I think knows the answers to all your problems. Mendel... understands what's bothering you."

"Forget it!" I shouted.

"Y'know, this family is a complete mess!" yelled Marvin out of nowhere. "We all might need some help. Will you please go?"

I shook my head, "No."

"Jason, please see a psychiatrist," Marvin said.

Mom continued, "He's not-"

"I won't say boo!" I interrupted.

"-exorbidant, and he's very smart!" she continued.

"If intelligence were the only criteria, then I literally wouldn't need a psychiatrist, would I?" I asked, facing Mom.

"No," she replied.

"Would I?" I asked Marvin.

"No," he replied, sounding defeated.

I decided to further antagonise them, "Just because you failed as parents..."

Mom gasped, "Get thee to a psychiatrist!" Whoa there, Shakespeare.

Marvin spun me around to face him, pointing his finger at me, "Hey, kid, listen-"

"I don't need-" I started.

My parents locked eyes above me.

"He needs a psychiatrist!" said Mom.

"I want-" I began.

"A psychiatrist?" asked Marvin, desperately.

"I wanna speak with Whizzer!" I responded.

"Speak with whom?" asked Marvin, sounding flabbergasted.

"With Whizzer," I stated smugly.

Mom didn't seem too pleased, but Marvin simply hung his head in defeat and sighed.

"Whizzer!" he shouted. "Can you come out here?"

In walked Whizzer, kneeling down in between Marvin and I.

"Whizzer do you think I should see a psychiatrist?" I asked. Inside I was repeating a mantra of 'Please say no, please say no, please say no.'

"I'm not sure, Jason," he replied. Marvin flicked the back of his head. Subtle.

"Jason, maybe so," he tried. Mom not-so-subtly cleared her throat behind me.

"Absolutely, Jason."

I'm not getting out of this, am I? And I trust Whizzer, even if he was prompted by my parents.

"Okay, I'll go," I eventually said.

Whizzer stood up triumphantly, "He'll go!"

"But only if he comes here," I wasn't going to give in that easily.

"If he comes here?" Marvin asked. Ha.

"He might come here," tried Mom.

"They don't make house calls," responded Marvin in what can only be described as a 'well, duh' tone.

Just then, an alarm began to beep. We all looked around, confused as to the source of the noise.

"Oh!" Whizzer said. It was his watch. He turned it off, the blood seemingly draining from his face. Then it hit me. He was late making dinner again. This wasn't gonna end well.

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