The Overconfident Son, The Ugly-Voiced Mother, and Rappelling

Author’s Note: I’d like to dedicate this piece of fiction that I made to my parents, especially to my mother. Also, I’d like to apologize to her and Dad for being a jerk to the two of them recently.


“I do not need your advice, mother,” said an overconfident teenage son on the rappelling tower while he attached the roped eight-ring to the carabiner hanging on the sling hook on the back part of his waist. His legs were shaking as he set up the descent system.

“Sun, A’ve bin e fursh-tamur bafur, end Ah rilly thunk yah shad fallah meh edvesh,” replied the overconfident son’s mother after watching her son refuse her assistance. Her arms were crossed on her chest, one foot was tapping the wooden floor, and a frown was on her face as she talked.

“No, mother, I do not need it, for I have read and understood stuff about rappelling and the various rappelling positions–even this position, the Aussie position–during my Net surfing time.” The son made slow and tiny steps towards the edge of the tower, with his legs still shaking and a twitching smile on his face. “Oh, and where’s Dad right now?”

“Yah Ded’s aht an e merethun, sun.” The mother’s arms tightened, the tapping of her foot quickened, and her frown lowered further. “End mah vuss meh bu agleh, beht Ah lak duang wez bust fur yah kids. Nahw, fallah meh anstrashens, sun.”

“Mother, I can do this properly, there is no need for me to get help from you.” The son’s arms were shaking along with his legs and his smile as he faced away from the edge and tested the rope’s tension. He was walking in place, practicing Aussie position movements. “I appreciate your concern, but I can freaking do this.”

The mother sighed. “Ya dun’t nid mah hulp, thun?” She moved a few steps away from her son. “Elraht. Gu repal. Prov aht. Prov ya sapireiarty uvah mi an thas. Ah wun’t furs mah hulp un yah.”

“Sure, sure, alright.”

The son slowly moved to the edge again.

“I’ll be going down now.”

His legs and arms were shaking.

“Going down now.”

He was now frowning as lots of sweat formed on his forehead.

“Going down.”

He was still standing on the edge at this point.

“Going…down…”

He held on to the top end of the rope as he swung his body outward.

“I can do th–WHOA!”

He gave his body a big outward push beyond the edge, and he was now struggling to keep himself properly standing straight on the wall while facing the ground.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! HELP!”

“Wall, thet’s fur yur poblekleh pustod blug pust weth yur bed amateshen uf mah yonack vuss end yar ded’s vuss!” The mother was now looking at her panicking son. Her hands were holding her hips, and she was grinning as well. “End yah sed thet yah dun’t nid mah hulp, so A’ll just wetch yah hir!”

“DO YOU WANT YOUR SON TO DIE BECAUSE OF HIS STUPIDITY?” the son shouted as his shaking and bending feet started to lose their grip on the wall.

“Uhf curse nuht, sun!” the mother shouted back. “Beht yah sed thet–”

“I SAID THAT I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DO THIS PROPERLY! I SAID THAT NOW! AND I DO THINK THAT PUBLICLY POSTING THAT BLOG POST WITH THAT INACCURATE IMITATION OF YOUR VOICE AND DAD’S VOICE WAS OVERBOARD! I FREAKING NEED HELP, I’M SORRY, MOM!”
“Ukeh, ukeh, sun. Nahw, streghten yur lags!”

“STRAIGHTEN LEGS!”

“Pat dumanent hend on thi pert uf thi rup thet’s nir yur sad.”

“PUT DOMINANT HAND ON THE PART OF THE ROPE THAT’S NEAR MY SIDE!”

“Uh, end kell fur e ballaer.”

“BILLETER!” (“Billeter ready!” said the overconfident son’s nicer and watching younger sister as she took her brother’s rope while setting herself up for billeting.)

“Nahw, fit farst es yah wok duwn!”

“FEET FIRST! ONE, TWO, STEP!”

“Sluwleh lusen yur huld un thi rup es yuh gu duwn.”

“FEED THE ROPE SLOWLY! BIT BY BIT, BIT BY BIT!”

“Kip yur oppar budeh a lattle opwerd!”

“LIFT UPPER BODY A LITTLE! FEED ROPE SLOWLY! ONE, TWO, STEP! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

The son was very near to the ground filled with small stones when his feet lost their hold on the wall.

“Wall, es yeeshel, tehm tu hulp meh sun ot thir.” The mother went down the stairs beside the rappelling tower as fast as she carefully could. Getting the humbled (yet again) son was a pretty easy task for her and her daughter, as the two women were trained in rappelling.

When the son detached the descent system from himself, he gave his mother a hug. The mother accepted it kindly.

“Yuh lurnd yur lussuns nahw, sun?” she gently said with a smile to her son as they hugged each other.

“Yes, Mom…” the son weakly replied. “I’m really sorry, Mom…again…”

“Ah luv yah, sun.”

“I love you, too, Mom…even if your voice sounds ugly and annoying…and thanks very much for those tips back there while I was panicking like an idiot…”

“Yur walcum, sun…yur walcum…”

And as usual, they went back to doing proper work.


Next Part: The Overconfident Son, The Ugly-Voiced Mother, and Commuting

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