The Day Poppo Came Down to Breakfast, Twice
by James Alan Gotaas
So I was just sitting slouched down at the kitchen table eating our usual breakfast: scrambled eggs cooked real dry and black bacon bits and charred toast. Mommo was standing at the e-eco-cooker drying more scrambled eggs and shouting up the stairs at Poppo. My older brother Nicky was sitting at one side of the table, pushing at his eggs with his fork and making strange faces, like he didn't much feel like eating eggs that morning. My little sister Suzy was sitting in her babyfloater, crying because Mommo wasn't feeding her yet. I was trying real hard to eat my eggs nicely, because Mommo had promised me double allowance that week if I ate without tempering, like she called it, and making Poppo yell at me.
Anyway, Poppo finally came down, sort of in a hurry, fixing one of his funny old ties, and making funny faces to go along with it. Mommo gave him a mean look when she thought we weren't looking, but Poppo just smiled at her. So she slid his plate in front of him and sat down by Suzy to begin feeding her. Poppo just looked funny at the eggs for a while; he didn't even notice that I was being good and eating my hyperdry eggs. He finally picked up his fork and started moving the scrambled eggs around his plate.
I was already finished with my eggs and just drinking my soyamilk when I heard Mommo just sort of breathe funny, maybe like a gasp that people always do in the threedees. I looked, and saw what had made her breathe funny. Poppo was coming down the stairs again, which was weird, because he was also still sitting at the table poking his eggs around. Nicky looked at them both, then jumped away from the table, kicking over his chair, and ran to the wall-rack where Poppo kept the Thing-gun. Nicky grabbed the gun and aimed it roughly in the direction of both Poppos, waving it back and forth between them.
"Hold it," he shouted, real loud.