This one is my fault. I didn't learn my lessons well. All the times Mom and Dad told me not to stick my head into things, I did so anyway. I over-heard Dad talking to Mom one night.
"When are you leaving for school?"
"Let's drive up this weekend because I need to get there and unpack." Mom responded.
That week our kitchen slowly piled up with bins, bags, and boxes waiting to be loaded into the car.
"Mom, are you leaving again?"
"Brix, before you know it, I'll be back. Don't you worry. You take care of Dad ok?"
I didn't want Mom to leave for school again, so I devised a crazy plan. A week before her departure, I decided on a semi-suicide mission. I rummaged through the recycling bin...the entire bin. I licked old swiss chalet containers, old McDonalds cups with drips of coke, chewed down on plastics and paper. I spread all these items onto the floor.
Couple days later, I started to vomit. Mom gave me hugs and kisses. It was working, I was getting attention. A week later my plan took it's full course. The day before Mom's departure, .I pooped like I never did before. Like water gushing from a fountain, an explosion occurred.
"What da frig?!?!" Dad looked worried.
I gave dad the "Oops, did I do that?" look.
Dad took me to the daycare thinking it was just a minor thing. He was so wrong. There at the daycare I unloaded liquid fire a couple times before Ashley called Dad.
"Yo, youz got to get Brix outta here and fast. He can't control his poops!"
"Damn, he did what?" Dad drove and picked me up and looked worried.
It wasn't the last of my plans. In the night I unloaded on the carpet and you should have seen Mom and Dad argue. It was too fun seeing how stressed they were knowing Mom had to leave the next day. My plan had worked, Mom stayed one extra day. But on Sunday, her and Dad left anyway and didn't come back until Monday. Mom didn't come back with Dad.
At that point, I knew my plan started to backfire. The diarrhea stayed with me. On the 4th day Dad brought me to the big V, the vet. And then the news came soon after from the doc.
"So we got the results from his stool. He has a parasite. Don't be alarmed if you see spaghetti like worms in his stool. Come by and pick up his medication."
"What kind of parasite does he have?"
I didn't believe it when I heard it. Now I felt bad. It wasn't part of the plan, I just wanted Mom to stay with me. Now I got roundworms. Dad is going to kill me now. I'm hoping the medication cures me. I just want things to go back the way it was, me, Mom, and Dad, chilling watching some good old movies on the tube.