The Night Shift

“So stupid!” his teenage son, Josh, was screaming on the top of his voice. “How can you be so stupid?”

Brutally awakened, Mike was rubbing his eyes in total incomprehension. The volume of his son’s voice was enough to alarm the whole neighbourhood, let alone wake up his wife, who was sleeping by his side like a baby – happily oblivious to the drama unfolding before his eyes.

“Can you return to your bedroom, please? Don’t you see we’re asleep?” he said quietly. Yet to his shock, Josh switched on the light instead, transforming his parents’ curtainless bedroom into an illuminated fishbowl.

It was three o’clock in the morning, and his tirade was in full blast.

“No, I can’t stop,” Josh was screaming. “And I don’t give a damn, if I wake the entire neighbourhood, either!”

With all the windows open, his voice was echoing throughout their narrow, densely populated street, like in a classical thriller.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” Josh was now wagging his finger at his father. “Because it’s all your fault!”

“Fault? What fault?” Mike stuttered confused.

Then he looked at his wife. She was fully awake now, ruffling her son’s hair as if he was a gorgeous three-year-old who had just thrown a tantrum.

“The baby is always so well behaved and now suddenly screaming his head off. Had a nightmare, Sweetheart?” she said smiling.

The next morning, Josh was shocked when Mike told him what had happened. He didn’t have the slightest recollection of anything.

“Looks like a classical instance of sleepwalking. Did I have my eyes open while screaming at you, Dad?” he asked concerned.

Mike nodded.

“It’s scary, Dad. Really scary.”

“Yet Mum seemed amused.”

“Dad, are you all right? Mum did a night shift last night. She hasn’t even arrived home yet.”

The Night Shift


Joined January 2008

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