"No restraints! No restraints!”
The Mother was frantic. The Son was having a conniption. The UFO was touching down as expected, but the aliens aboard had disembarked with what looked like handcuffs dangling from their paws, or claws, or whatever those odd appendages at the ends of their “arms” were. The appendages reminded The Son of the sporks he had to use in school, which were too deep to get food out of and safely into his mouth. No other kid seemed to have problems with the sporks, but Benjamin simply could not use them; his mouth was too small.
One day, not long before this one, he’d gone ballistic on a lunch lady, rudely screaming “Does my mouth look big enough for this utensil?!!” She sent him to the principal’s office, where The Son was told to buck up, and to use the sporks or else. From that day forth, The Mother had to send an extra shirt to school with The Son so that he wouldn’t be bullied by everyone, teachers included and perhaps especially, because of the dribble of lunch that invariably landed on his shirt front when he tried to eat with a spork.
The poor kid had had quite enough, and begged The Mother for a transfer to another school. The only choices left were off planet. The Son jumped at that chance. Maybe he’d get sent to a planet that didn’t even have sporks.
But the aliens had sporks where hands should have been, which freaked The Son out. The Mother did what The Mother always did – she decided her hunch was the best hunch, and that little Benjamin would be better off being homeschooled.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's daily freewrite challenge. Today's prompt is no restraint.
