Put A Sock In It

put a sock in it

“Make it stop,” the man commanded. His wife looked up at him, her heart beating faster with each passing moment.

“I can’t,” she admitted quietly with a quivering voice. She cleared her throat and repeated her confession, a bit louder. “I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t,” the husband asked in a steady, stern tone. He had to remain calm, had to keep the situation under control. His head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat. He could feel a migraine coming on and the piercing screams in the room were certainly not helping.

She could sense her husband’s patience running low. The wife panicked, her eyes darting around the room desperately as she looked for something to quiet the cries of the baby. She was in trouble; she didn’t know how to make it stop crying or what it wanted.

“I… I don’t know how,” she managed to stutter. She was sweating profusely, though it wasn’t any hotter than usual in their small studio apartment. Her breathing was short and shallow as she watched her husband’s face turn a deeper, darker shade of red. It looked almost purple and the vein in his forehead was bulging.

He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth while he looked around the room. “Why don’t just put something in its mouth? Just put a sock in it,” he screamed, his voice booming over the cries. If she didn’t shut that baby up in the next ten seconds he was going to lose it.

She grabbed the nearest sock and shoved it in the baby’s mouth, instantly dulling the cries. She had to admit, she was in a little over her head. This whole kidnapping a baby thing was turning out to be more than she’d bargained for.

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