(i)"GET OUT. ALL OF YOU." (i)

  One brother asked, "Should we be ashamed of ourselves?" 

  "Yes you should!"  Our mother barked.  "OUT!!!!" 

  The bathroom door closed behind her sort of muffling, "Let me see your wounds."  A quiet and then Dad almost crying, "And I can't poop." 

  The dog was missing.  Mom had had to take a cab from the airport in the City.  The house looked like a disaster zone.  Eight days of a breaking down routine and no normal end of day evidenced in stacks and patterns.  Not a clean dish to be found.  Four foot piles of laundry.  The family room floor, more snacks than carpet. 

  "YOU GIRLS SHOULD'VE HELPED!" Mom's voice floated out the window. 

  "We're NOT SLAVES!" One sister sassed back and then "ran away" to the Woods. 

  "HE CAN'T DO EVERYTHING (i)FOR(i) EVERYBODY!!" 

  "YOU CAN," a brother tossed a ball up in the air and caught it with the mitt. 

  "NO I CAN'T.  (i)GO PLAY!(i)"