Rick surveyed the mess in his lab. He cleaned up the broken glass
from the floor, and made sure all the volatile chemicals were dealt
with. It was still a mess from the explosion, but he could tidy up
later. He was still angry at Brandon, but it really wasn't Brandon's
fault. It was his own, he just wasn't used to having kids in the
house.
He sighed, and instead of going upstairs to get a beer as he planned,
Rick started to clean and tidy up the lab.
An hour later he stood with his latex gloved hands planted on his hips
and surveyed his lab. It had never looked cleaner. Everything
sparkled. The room smelled lemony fresh. He peeled of his gloves and
was startled to see how long his nails had gotten. Perhaps a side-
effect from the gas? He shrugged and headed upstairs. He stopped as he
entered the kitchen. He frowned. Breakfast dishes in the sink. He went
right over and cleaned them. As he put the dry dishes in the cupboard
he noticed water spots on some of the glasses. He decided to fix that.
An hour later, he had rewashed every single glass, plate, cup, pot,
pan and piece of flatware in the kitchen. Then he went to work on the
counters, kitchen table, chairs, cabinets, floors, and windows.
Rick beamed at the work he had accomplished. Why couldn't his wife
keep this kitchen spotless like him? He looked down at himself. He was
wearing a polka dot apron over his lab coat. He couldn't recall
putting it on, but instead of removing it, he tightened the string
tie, and headed into the dining room to polish the furniture and
silver.
Upstairs Brandon was getting hungry and bored. The station had
switched to its oldies lunch programming, and he decided to take a
break from studying. He adjusted his cargo shorts and tee shirt,
pulled on his Nikes and headed down to the kitchen.
The scent of lemon pledge and ammonia assaulted his nostrils as he
descended the stairs. He slipped on the freshly polished hardwood
floor and landed on his butt with a loud thud.
The kitchen door flew open and in burst Rick.
"Are you all right, Brandon?" asked Rick.
Brandon noticed the higher pitch in Rick's voice, and thought he must
have thought Brandon fell down the stairs.
"Yeah, I'm fine Rick, just slipped on the floor," he said red faced.
"Oh, I guess I should have told you I just waxed. Now come into the
kitchen, and I'll get you lunch. I'm so relieved you weren't hurt,
son."
Rick bent to help Brandon up, and as he grabbed Brandon's biceps, he
commented, "My you are getting some nice muscles, young man."
"Uh, yeah. Thanks."
In the kitchen, he was surprised how Rick waited on him. Brandon
rolled his eyes, as Rick cut the crusts of the sandwich he made
Brandon. Then his eyes widened as Rick placed a cloth napkin in
Brandon's lap, and proceeded to heat up Brandon's dessert.
"Just a little apple pie, I whipped up this morning," Rick explained.
Brandon felt bloated from all the food, but was grateful to get out of
the house. Rick was acting really weird. This was worse than his buddy
buddy routine, but at least the guy could cook.
In the hours that Brandon rode his dirt bike, Rick scoured the
upstairs. He even cleaned up Brandon's room.
Brandon was covered with sweat, dirt and mud when he opened the
kitchen door and entered his house again.