The No-Help Helper
By Valerie L. Egar
Josh
invited his friend Jaden to stay overnight. He was coming at 5:00.
Josh looked around
his room. Games and game pieces covered his top bunk. Magazines and papers littered his desktop. Dirty clothes hung over his chair. Books and little cars cluttered the floor. Worse,
a funny smell wafted from under the bed.
“I’ve got lots of
work to do before 5:00,” he said to his Maine Coon cat, Broomtail. “Want to
help?”
Josh climbed to
the top bunk and put the game boards and pieces back in their boxes. Broomtail
joined him and sat in a box. “Broomie, that’s no help. Out.”
Broomie swiped
Josh’s hand.
“You can’t sit in
the box.” Josh gently pushed Broomie out. Broomie stretched. He found a plastic
man and a domino near the pillow and swatted them. They fell on the floor. Josh
sighed. “You’re not helping!” Josh climbed down to pick them up.
Broomie yawned,
jumped into the lower bunk and nestled on the pillow as Josh finished clearing
the top bunk. He put clean sheets on the mattress.
Josh
decided to put clean sheets on the bottom bunk, too. “C’mon Broomie, move.” He
lifted him off the bed. Broomie jumped back on.
“No.
Let me get this done first.” He lifted him off again.
Broomie
walked around the room as Josh fitted the bottom sheet onto the mattress. As Josh opened the flat sheet to spread on
the mattress, Broomie jumped on the bed. He was quick and landed under the
sheet. Now there was a Broomie lump in the bed. Josh pulled the sheet off.
“Broom-cat,
you are NOT helping!” He put Broomie on the floor and quickly made the bed. “You
can go back to sleep now.” Josh patted the mattress, but Broomie had other
ideas. He discovered a reel of string on a shelf that Josh used for his kite.
String was fun! Broomie knocked it on the floor and it unwound, bouncing over
the little cars on the floor. Yards of string tangled in the car wheels as the
reel rolled under the bed.
“Broomie!
You’re making more work.” Josh snipped the string with his scissors and threw
it in the wastebasket. Broomie jumped after the tail end and knocked the
wastebasket over, spilling everything onto the rug.
“Enough!” Josh yelled,
frightening Broomie. He jumped onto the desk and skittered across the desktop,
sending magazines, markers, pencils and glue stick flying.
Josh sat on the
edge of his bed and put his head in his hands. His room looked worse than ever.
He looked at the clock. 3:30. He didn’t have much time left.
Josh
picked up everything that had been in the wastebasket and dumped it in the
garbage barrel in the garage. While he was there, he grabbed a cardboard box
and put all his toys, books and dirty clothes in it. “Not the best way to clean
up,” he thought, “but it works for now.”
Broomie jumped in the box and made a bed on
the dirty clothes. “That’s not helpful!” Josh slid the box into the closet and
started to close the door. Broomie jumped out.
After Josh piled
his school supplies neatly on his desk, he fished shoes and socks out from
under the bed. He discovered what smelled bad— hummus and carrots he took out of the
refrigerator for a snack. Was it three weeks ago? Four? Down to the garbage
barrel again. Finally, he was ready to vacuum the rug.
Broomie was afraid
of the vacuum. Josh looked around to see where he was. “Must have gone downstairs,” he thought and
switched it on. Broomie flew out from under the bed, scrambled across his desk,
sending Josh’s markers flying again. He jumped on the top bunk, but slipped and
grabbed onto the sheet with his claws. Broomie landed on his feet, leaving a
long tear in the sheet.
Josh looked at the
clock. 4:45. He pulled new sheets out of the closet and re-made the
bed. He picked the markers off the floor.
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Copyright 2018 by Valerie L. Egar. May not be copied, reproduced or distributed without permission from the author.
Published Journal Tribune Sunday (Biddeford, ME) February 4, 2018
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