Prompted: Picture Prompt

"Jesus Christ, what are you doing to that child?!"

I jumped, dropping my book. Kev strode into the living room, radiating indignance and gesticulating wildly at the blanket-wrapped bundle next to me on the couch. Sure, my headphones weren't up to date, but inflicting technology from the 90's on the younger generation surely wasn't something to get that upset about.

"What? It's not on loud."

"You're supposed to be baby-sitting!"

"I am!"

He pulled the headphones off the baby's head with a gentleness that belied his previous blustering, holding them up to his own ear. He gave me a strange look. "David Bowie?"

"I'm giving the poor thing better musical exposure than his parents are. Did you know they were playing the Black-Eyed Peas when I got here? And his dad owns a Right Said Fred album."

"Right Said--?"

"You know 'em. They're too sexy for their name. What I'm saying is, kid needs educating."

He scowled. "So you're being paid eight dollars an hour to read and fill the baby's head with David Bowie music."

"And change diapers."

"So what are you going to do when the kid's first words are 'Jean Genie'?" He plopped next to me on the couch and frowned at the child, who gurgled and reached for the headphones.

I recovered my book and glared at him. "Keep your mouth shut and you get ten percent."

"Twenty."

"Fifteen and I won't bean you in the head with this."

He replaced the headphones, made sure the volume was low enough, and reached for the remote.

"Pleasure doin' business with you."