I: In which we meet Sam

“Sammy, why do ye leave your shoes out in the middle of the floor all the time?  Ye could trip over ‘em in the middle of the night and fall and break your neck.  Is that what ye want?  To be paralyzed in a wheelchair for the rest of your life, with your poor mother having to take care of you?  Like I haven’t already put in my time bathing you and changing your diapers!”

“Sorry, Mom, I got distracted.”  Sam moved his shoes under the edge of the bed.

“Distracted?  Probably by that Internet you’re always looking at.  It’s not good for a boy your age to sit and stare at a computer all day.  your muscles will atrophy and you’ll go blind, then where will ye be, eh?”

“In a wheelchair with my poor mother taking care of me?”  Sam smiled.

“That sass comes from your father.  I have to put up with it from two of you now?”

“Sorry, Mom.”  Sam said.

“Ye better be.”  Sam’s mom smiled. “What’s got your attention, anyway?”

“I’m analyzing editorial articles for logical fallacies and writing about the worst offenders on my blog.  This guy on Fox News uses a lot of slippery slope arguments.It’s hard to take him seriously.”

“Well, have fun, just make sure to get your schoolwork done, too.  I don’t want you failing out of school and having to rely on your poor mother to support you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, Mom.” Sam smirked.

When she’d left, he swivelled around, back to the desk and clicked over to the tab he’d actually been looking at.  

It was probably a bad idea to be looking at such a website in his room, so near the bed.  He scrolled down.  An unbroken line of salt.  Sure, his mother would love that.  “What’re ye wasting all the salt that I worked my fingers to the bone to buy for this family, for?  To make a mess in your bedroom that I’ll have to clean up?”  He could hear her now.  Even without the mother problem, what if it didn’t work?  Probably it would be interpreted as an attack and cause hostility.  Nope, bad idea.

Thump!

Sam didn’t even turn around at the sound that came from two feet behind him.  Why bother?  He wouldn’t see anything other than his shoes sitting in the middle of the floor.