They took Mum off to the Cyborg factory yesterday and I wasn’t even at home to see him go away. I won’t be there when he gets back, fixed, tomorrow.
Mum is now just about six feet tall and smiles with her long hair lifted off her face as is the fashion among the 20 year olds. Mum is 312 years old and she won’t stop letting you know that.
She founded the Cyborg factory in her 40s when she was less than six feet and balding. She sold it as a success in her 70s, already slightly taller and a little more hirsute. She had never felt better.
The Cyborg factory was franchised all over the free world by that time. The last petrol car had come off the line in Korea and was sold to a museum in China. Amusingly it was a Ford Cosset, aimed at the Pink market.
I am 15 years old, it’s terrible but I don’t think she can die. Ever.
She goes on and on and on about things that I don’t know or care about. She tells me that “What goes around, comes around” or some bullshit like that. I’ve had five stepdads… in 15 years. Can you imagine that? You would have thought that such a long lifespan would make you relaxed but oh no! No way. Mum gets bored really easily and doesn’t like to see ageing.
Poor folk can’t afford the Cyborg factory as you know. Poor folk get old quickly but poor folk interest Mum so she marries them and ruins them and then moves on, bored again. I’m amazed she’s not bored with me yet. But she doesn’t see me often what with me being at school. She got bored with my brother and he went to the Cyborg Factory. So did all my sisters.
She bores me to death. I don’t want to go to the Cyborg Factory even if it is a family tradition. I want to get old, it’s cool. When she gets home, I will have made her a special tea. I loved her once. I will leave her tea out with a note telling her that I loved her once.
I will also eat and drink the special tea. It’s the only way I think of having a future that won’t bore me like it does her.