Today's unfinished story: The Pyro

Vash managed to roll her eyes and glower at her parents at the same time. She sat on an easy chair, watching her parents alternate between pacing and shouting. They were quite simply being annoying. She came home with her first ‘B’ paper today, and this was their reaction. Lectures. Weeping. Hysterical accusations of drug addictions. Satanic music. Sex.

“Look, you don’t understand.”

“No, I understand!” her mom shouted, “you’ve never brought home a B before! There’s something wrong with you!”

“That’s not mature,” her dad intoned as he wagged a finger, “you need to manage your time better.”

Vash sighed, and tried again, “Listen—“

Her mom interrupted, “Vash! I don’t understand! How could you get a B?”

Totally irrational. Insane. Vash pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We’ll get her a tutor, Pam.”

“I don’t need a tutor. If you’d just let me explain—“

“Vashana is smart. She doesn’t need a tutor. Maybe a psychologist?”

“Mom, dad! I don’t need help!”

“She’s been argumentative.” Dad looked over his spectacles at her, “and surly. Backtalking.”

“I was not!”

“Ah! Ah! Don’t interrupt!”

Vash groaned, running her fingers through her straight black hair in frustration. She rarely got angry, but she would lose it soon, she knew.

“I’ve heard of this, but I didn’t think it’d happen to Vashana!”

“What, dear?” he indulged his wife.

“The teen angst!”

Vash struggled to keep a straight face.

Her mother continued her rant, “It’s the music she’s listening to! It’s a bad influence.”

Exasperated, Vash groaned, “Mom!”

“George, reason with her!

He fanned himself, then loosened his tie, “it’s getting warm in here. Why don’t we take a break, and cool down…” He paused to chuckle at his own pun, “We can talk about this more later.”