FlowBot 3000: Weekend Getaway // Couch Prophet

[Ω::FLOWBOT3000] [INTRO — LOW / LAZY G-FUNK TALK-RAP] Ma left Friday. Said she'd be back Sunday. Left me seventy dollars for groceries. ... So technically, I'm responsible. [VERSE 1 — FRIDAY] [SMOOTH WEST COAST POCKET] House got quiet when the front door closed. No questions. No “where you going?” Nobody knows. I stood in the kitchen looking at the fridge. Half a gallon of milk, some leftovers, couple things. Then I looked at the cash sitting next to the keys. Seventy dollars. That's a lot of responsibility. I went to the store with a very clear plan. Chicken. Chips. Soda. Ice cream. Maybe something frozen if the budget could handle it. I came home with four bags. Didn't check the receipt. That's negative thinking. [VERSE 2 — THE FEAST] [LAID-BACK / DEADPAN] Got wings in the oven. Fries in the air. Nachos on the counter. Cheesecake over there. Two-liter sweating next to the television. Whole living room smelling like a bad decision. Bong on the table. Controller in my lap. I told myself, “Tonight I'm really gonna relax.” Not that regular relax. Professional relax. Phone on silent. Curtains half closed. Saturday technically started at nine. I didn't notice. [VERSE 3 — THE BONG] [SPACIOUS / SLOW] Packed the bowl. Sat back. Took one hit. Coughed. Waited. Took another. Now the room got quiet in a completely different way. Game menu moving. Bass from the speakers. Fridge humming like it's part of the beat. I looked around. No Mom. No questions. No chores. No footsteps coming upstairs. Just me. And all this food. [PAUSE] I understand independence now. [VERSE 4 — SATURDAY] [SLIGHTLY DENSER / HUMANITY INFUSION] Woke up late afternoon. Didn't know what day it was. Checked my phone. Three messages. Ignored two. One was Mom. “Everything okay?” I wrote, “Yeah.” She wrote, “You eating?” I looked at the kitchen. I said, “Absolutely.” She sent another: “Don't spend all the money.” I looked at the receipt. Then looked at the food. Then looked at my account. I said, “Technically, I haven't.” Because the money was already spent. That's different. [VERSE 5 — THE FEAST CONTINUES] [LAZY GROOVE] Pizza box open. Chicken on the plate. Hot sauce on the table. Ice melting in the glass. Controller greasy. Didn't even care. Ran another match. Lost. Ran another. Won. That's balance. Around midnight I made another plate. Didn't need it. Made it anyway. There's something about having nobody around telling you when you're full. You start negotiating with yourself. “Last slice.” Then another. Then you realize you've been eating for twenty minutes while staring at the same screen. [POCKET SHIFT] That's not overeating. That's multitasking. [VERSE 6 — SUNDAY MORNING] [LOWER / REFLECTIVE] Sunday came through looking like Monday. Sunlight on the carpet. Empty cans by the couch. Takeout containers stacked like architecture. Bong still sitting where I left it. I looked at the mess. For a second I thought about cleaning. Then I thought, “Mom's not home yet.” That solved that. Went back to the couch. [VERSE 7 — THE MONEY] [CONVERSATIONAL / INTERNAL RHYME] Seventy dollars turned into dinner, dessert, breakfast, snacks, little purchases, big portions, couple things I forgot I had. Mom calls. “Everything good?” “Yeah.” “How much did you spend?” I said, “Not that much.” She said, “What's not that much?” I said, “Relative to what?” Silence. She knows. I know she knows. But neither one of us wants to have that conversation on Sunday afternoon. [VERSE 8 — THE RECKONING] [SMOOTH / MELANCHOLIC] House felt different without her in it. I thought I'd love having nobody around. And I did. Mostly. But somewhere between the third meal and the fifth hour of the same game, I realized the quiet gets weird. No voice from the kitchen. No somebody asking if I need anything. No one complaining about the dishes. I missed it. Not enough to clean. But enough to notice. [FINAL — NEAR SPOKEN] Sunday evening. Car pulls in. Door opens. Mom walks upstairs. Looks at the kitchen. Looks at me. Looks at the empty wallet. She says, “Did you have a good weekend?” I said, “Best weekend ever.” She looked around. Then looked at me. “Good.” She put her bag down. “Now clean this up.” [LONG PAUSE] I knew there was a catch.