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Man-boy

[Man-boy, 626 words, Genre: Mind Fudge]

* Image courtesy of Dirk de Bruyn

She was seventy years old. She almost had a heart attack when the child protection agents came to her house. They stood at the door and rang the doorbell. She had to think quickly, on her feet, though she was not as quick of mind as she used to be, nor as nimble on her feet. But she quickly went to her baby’s room. There, sitting in front of the computer was her fifty year old baby boy. “Harold! They’ve come for you. They’ve come for you Harold!”

Harold had quickly turned off the live streaming pornography that he had been looking at on the computer when he heard the sounds of his mother’s footsteps approaching. “Marm! Who’s come for me, marm?”

“Them, Harold! The child protection people. I’ll tell them one thing, they’re not going to get my baby.” Harold’s mother quickly pulled a blanket out of the linen closet and placed it over Harold. Covering him from head to toe so that he couldn’t be seen.

Then Harold’s mother went to answer the door. She opened the door. There stood two child protection service agents. One, a large burly man, and the other a younger woman in her thirties. “Hello.” Harold’s mother greeted the two agents.

“Uhh… Hello Mrs. Smith.”

“It’s Miss actually.” The seventy year old woman made eyes with the large burly man. Flirtatiously gazing into his eyes.

“Right…” He replied, “We have reports that there is a child under your care.”

“I see and is there a problem with that?” Mrs. Smith asked defensively.

“Well, yes, actually.” It was the younger female, “You’re far too old to have a child in your care. You require care yourself. We’re here to help you with that.”

“I’m quite capable of looking after myself,” Mrs. Smith replied.

“Can we come in Mrs. Smith?” the large burly man asked.

“I don’t see why not. You won’t find anything.”

“We’ll just see about that,” replied the young woman.

From down the corridors of the house came the squealing of her fifty year old baby boy, “Marm!” He cried out, “Marm!” The two child protection officers followed the sound of Harold’s voice down the corridors.

“It’s just the radio, that’s it, it’s just the radio,” Mrs. Smith attempted to explain.

The two agents continued to walk down the corridor until they came to Harold’s bedroom. They opened up the door to the room. There, sitting at a desk, underneath a blanket. Calling out, “Marm!” And again, “Marm!”

“I wonder where he could be?” The large burly man asked sarcastically, looking at the fifty year old man sitting underneath the blanket that his mother had draped over him.

The thirty year old woman pulled the blanket off of Harold, like a magician’s trick, “Voila!”

“Marm! Are these the bad people?” Harold questioned indignantly.

Mrs. Smith then went to grab a hold of her son. To hug him one more time before they took him away. “Don’t take my baby away! Don’t take my baby away!”

The female officer held back Mrs. Smith. The large burly man took Harold by the hand and said, “Would you like to come with me son?” Harold nodded, signalling that he wanted to. The large burly man led Harold out to the car that was parked outside. Harold got in the car and the female agent, who had been holding Mrs. Smith back, quickly ran into to the car and got in the front passenger seat.

“My boy!” Mrs. Smith called out.

As Mrs. Smith cried out. Harold, the fifty year old man, sat in the back seat of the car and waved goodbye to his mother with a tear forming in his eye.

Mrs. Smith fell to her knees and began crying.

 

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