Right. There.

(scene opens up in parlor, bearing strong resemblance to a sweatshop)

Me: Alpha? I need a pen that will write on fabric.
Alpha: Where would I find that?
Me: Pen cup. Kitchen.
Alpha: (many hilarious failed attempts to produce anything resembling “fine tip” or “marker”)
Me: (exasperated) You know that nice pen that you have in your Boy Scout binder? Something like that.
Alpha: Where would I find that?
Me: Hooks along the stairs.
Alpha: (off screen) It’s not here.
Me: (stabs mouthful of pins into tomato, one at a time, mouthing curses) Hook. Stairs. Under jacket.
Alpha: (still off screen) I’m looking! It’s not here!
Me: (goes to basement stairwell. Stands on stairs. Stares at hooks.)
Alpha: Oh! I thought you meant the other hooks. (points at tiny key rack next to side door.
Me: Hooks. (points to hooks) Basement stairs. (points to stairs) Check under jackets. (removes hoodie from hook, reveals blue shoulder bag zipped organizer)
Alpha: Oh. Thanks mom. (takes organizer)
Me: You need to learn how to look for things. When the apocalypse comes, I won’t be here to help you find your survival gear.

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