Mundelein High School - Voices Magazine - 2020

V o i c e s 2 0 2 0 | 9
staircase leading upstairs to his new bedroom. A mop, broom, and dustbin were hung
on the wall between the two staircases. As he mentally prepared himself for the hard
work ahead, he grabbed his bag and got himself situated in his room.
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It took him almost the entire day to clean the parlor to his liking including the
bedroom and bathroom, but he didn’t mind. If he was going to live there for the rest of
his life, he wanted it to be how he wanted.
Tomorrow morning, he would replace the melted ice cream with the freshly made
ones in the basement’s freezers. Then, he would begin to make the fresh cones and
bowls. But that was tomorrow; he still had lots to do during the night.
When the sun finally set and August hung the mop back up on the hanger, he
threw on a light zip up hoodie, locked the doors, and made his way over to his friend’s
house. The garage door was open, so he made his way inside like he always did and
went straight to the basement after saying hi to his friend’s mother.
“Yo, where’ve you been?” his friend, Eric, asked. August plopped down on the
armchair next to the couch in front of Eric’s TV. While some people’s basements have a
nice living room and maybe a bar or game area, Eric’s basement was his room. It was
filled with band posters with a TV, couch, and an armchair in the living area across from
his bed. On the other side of the couch opposite of the armchair was a large guitar hero
drum set and two guitars. Behind the living space was a real drum set and two electric
guitars. One of the guitars was August’s which he had to keep it in Eric’s basement for
fear of his mother seeing it. She wasn’t too fond of the idea of her son being in a metal
band, so when Eric bought his first and only electric guitar, he immediately hid it in Eric’s
house and visited every night when his mother was sewing in her room or fast asleep at
8:00pm. Now with the parlor being in his hands, he would have to leave later. The parlor
always had a reputation of opening exactly at 12:00pm and closing at 9:30pm.
“Sorry. It was my first day at the parlor,” August apologized, getting up off the
armchair and grabbing his guitar. He plugged it into the amp, and began to strum the
instrument lightly. “I had to clean up the place because it looked disgusting. My mom
didn’t even bother cleaning the apron before handing it down to me.”
“Apron?” Eric questioned, puzzled. “Can’t you just buy a new one if it’s so dirty?”
“It’s some stupid family heirloom. I have to wear it or my mom’ll throw a fit.”
Eric let out a small snort, and sat behind the drum set. He twirled the drum sticks
between his fingers.
After a few minutes, Eric broke the silence. “So it’s finally yours, huh? That’s kinda
bogus that your dad just threw that big of a responsibility at you.”