VIDEO

[killtime]

[ The camera angle is. Bad. This is a person who does not know how to use their communicator well. They probably can't even take a proper selfie. All that's showing is a pair of combat boots moving around in the grass — someone's backyard? — and in the distance, much farther out, a tree that (oddly enough) has a single board nailed to it for a reason only the gods know. It's not even nailed on straight.

The boots stop wandering. It's quiet for a moment.

Then there's a thwip, almost like the sound of a rubber band, and a thunk moments later, as an arrow hits the crooked board, dead center.

Unceremoniously then, a woman's voice: ]

Any of you know shit about teenagers?

[ Another thunk. A second arrow, its head practically kissing the first where it strikes. ]

What do normal fifteen-year-olds do these days?

[ Thunk. A third arrow. Three for three.

A mutter then, half to herself: ]

Fuck. Probably better get around to the whole "birds and bees" thing.

Comments

[killtime]

[ At length: ]

He had a nontraditional upbringing.

[ understatement of the fucking year ]

And I'm probably not the best person to have that talk with him.

[itsttlygonnahappenagain]

[To herself:] Hah! Knew it was a dude!

[To her:] Then don't subject yourself to it. Blech. What's the actual problem here? You're kinda beating about the bush.

[killtime]

Limited options. It's either me, or my partner. We're raising him.

Might end up having to outsource this whole problem to someone who actually remembers puberty.

[itsttlygonnahappenagain]

You don't sound like you're that old... But just use one of those books, you know, "Our Whole Lives: Let's Talk About Sex" or whatever. Then they can use that as their go to.

[killtime]

Kid, I'm ancient. And back in my day, we didn't have sex ed picture books.

[itsttlygonnahappenagain]

[she takes the ancient line in stride, not realising how literal it is. And who knows, anything seems possible here.]

Dinosaur or not, use whatever resources you got, right? Saves you and him from the “talk.” No awkward conversations, no cringe-y mom comments, only labelled diagrams of human genitalia. Problem solved!

[killtime]

...

[ A heavy. Slow. Sigh. ]

Guess I'm going to the bookstore.