Bubbles

“Dun nut. Dun nut. Dun nut dun nut dun nut.”

Humming the “Jaws” theme song, I menacingly brought my glass closer to my mother, who was camped out in her blue recliner next to my father and HIS blue recliner, watching a PBS documentary about the frontier life. In the green cup, amidst a sea of tap water and cubes of ice, a bright, wide-eyed, yellow plastic fish, with a blue straw extending from its back, grinned happily at her. As I continued to make threatening noises and make the fish in the cup swim towards its unsuspecting victim, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, my father calmly grabbing the television remote.

“Uh-oh,” I said, “Daddy wants me to shut up.”

My mother giggled as he nodded, pushing the rubbery gray button and making the volume line on the T.V. set extend from 12 to 15. I giggled too, and wandered away.