A Dash of Yellow CriticismA Dash of Yellow Criticism
Kululu sat in his Pekoponian form across from me. His eyes were fixed on his laptop; his fingers typing away fervently at some new project. I sat there across from the table giving little irritated sighs to let him know that I was there. His eyes stayed fixated upon the screen. Annoyed, I leaned back in my chair and tapped my fingers across the petrified wood. Kululu's typing became uneven, and he stopped and looked up at me.
Giving a long sigh he spoke, "Dorara, will you stop? I'm trying to work here."
I rolled my eyes and tapped my fingers again. "Of course you are. You always are. Will you at least pause for an hour and play with your son?" Kululu rolled his eyes and went back to furiously clicking the keyboard. "Listen to me, damnit. Kululu, you need to pay him some attention or he'll end up just as screwed as you are."
Without looking up, he slammed the laptop screen down with his hand. He slowly lifted his eyes to meet mine. "Maybe that's not such a bad