Babysitting Disaster

My neighbours asked me to come round and look after their toddler for a few hours, while they went out to the movies. No big deal, I thought. Little bastard starts playing up, I’ll just try and convince it to watch the TV for a while. I’ll be sorted. I can handle this. Responsibility, yeah, no biggie.

I sat down and started watching Price Drop TV, where they were selling watches. The kid was sat on the sofa next to me. I couldn’t be arsed going through the ordeal of putting him to bed, and was waiting for him to fall asleep of his own accord, so I could masturbate into his mum’s knickers. He stared at the screen briefly. I turned to look at him as he rooted in his nose and pulled out a lime green wad of snot, which he stuffed in his mouth and swallowed. He didn’t even fucking care.

“That’s disgusting,” I scolded him. He began to cry.

Shit, I thought. I can’t let this become an ordeal. “No, I take it back,” I said. “It’s not disgusting. Pick your nose and eat the contents all you like.” He began to thrash his arms about and wail like I’d somehow deeply hurt his feelings.

“Do you want to watch Price Drop TV?” I asked. “Look at Price Drop TV! Look at the prices drop on those watches. Isn’t that exciting?”

“No,” he screamed, throwing the cushion at me. I was getting pissed off.

“Listen kid, there’s only so much of this I can take, until…” I said, feeling a bit like the Incredible Hulk. I could feel my temple beginning to pound and my muscles in my arms beginning to twitch.

“No!” he screamed louder, cutting me off.

I paused to try to compose myself, and failed. “LOOK AT THE FUCKING TV!” I roared back at him. “LOOK AT THE FUCKING TV! LOOK AT THE FUCKING TV! LOOK AT THE FUCKING TV!”

I wasn’t getting through to him. His cries were piercing my ears like crushed glass, and he was preparing to throw the remote control at me.

I stood upright and grabbed the toddler by the hair, dragging him over to the glass screen. “SHUT UP AND WATCH THE FUCKING TELLY!” I yelled down his earhole. He kicked and bawled, winding me up no fucking end.

I lifted up the television with a heave. It was probably a 50-inch big box of a TV, and it was a relief to finally let go of it above the infant, silencing his shrieks.

I lifted up the TV and looked at the kid. He was out cold, and was a bit of a wreck; his head was caved in, his skull opening into the pinky-grey fleshiness of his brain. It was a bit difficult to find his face, because his head was on backwards, a very visible twist in his neck. It wasn’t pretty – I guess the corner had hit him in the eye, because it seemed missing. A steady flow of blood had taken its place. The kid didn’t look good.

I stood up to look at his 2-foot-6 body. Shit. Motherfucking parents’ll be back soon. Shit.

You know how you put one lie on top of another lie and it causes all sorts of problems? Yeah, I burnt their house down.