Genre: Satire / Society
Target Audience: Adults
Status: Complete
Published: 4 Chapters
MANABY! is a satire about modern parenting — and the way it is practiced today.
The story takes one absurd idea and follows it relentlessly to its bitter end:
What happens when children never truly grow up — or when parents simply cannot let them go?
A story to make you smile — and for anyone who has ever wondered when children are actually supposed to become adults.
Reading Time: approx. 10 minutes.
Manaby I
“We are the leading company in our field,” says the manager behind the mahogany desk. As he speaks, his eyes sparkle like the tie pin set with fine diamonds and fastened to expensive silk.
“And perhaps that is not despite our Sitter concept, but BECAUSE of it!” Satisfied, he leans back in his buffalo-leather chair, tosses back his meticulously styled side part and fixes the applicant with a hungry stare.
“You are sitting here for a reason, after all. So, how many will you be employing? One? Two? Or do you perhaps have even more?” The manager picks up his ivory fountain pen and expertly spins it between his fingers.
The applicant sits somewhat lost in his chair. He is the same age as the man opposite him—around thirty. Naturally well-groomed, though the dark circles beneath his eyes remain visible despite the hyaluronic ointment. His fingers tap nervously against the slightly worn briefcase until he finally answers, “None.”
“Are you serious?” the manager snorts in disbelief. “Do you have any idea what that means? Have you never …” His face turns the color of an overripe tomato on the verge of bursting.
His finger circles above the intercom on the desk as he clears his throat and the color drains from his face. Pressing the button, he coos in a sugary voice, “Sitter to my office, please!”
Grinning broadly, the manager spins once around in his chair as the door opens a crack and a tired man asks, “Yes?”
Leaning across the desk, the manager looks from the applicant to the tired man and back again. “The sales chart for the upcoming meeting still isn’t finished.”
Nodding, the Sitter lets out an unmistakable sigh, closes the door and shuffles over to a flip chart in the corner of the office. He wears a basalt-colored uniform with turquoise epaulettes on the shoulders, and the word “Sitter” is written across the back in delicate lettering.
Numbers and peculiar product names such as Manaby Protect are already written on the paper. Then he picks up pens in different colors and begins drawing bar charts and curves.
“As you can see,” the manager begins to coo, “our concept has nothing but advantages.” He stands, smooths his jacket and tie, and walks around the desk toward the Sitter.
The manager’s shoes are elegant, timeless in design, freshly polished and waxed. Above them rise bare, hairy male legs. Muscular and kept in shape—yet only from the hips upward does navy-blue fabric cover his skin again, matching the jacket.
Curious, the applicant tries not to stare too directly at the skimpy piece of clothing—he does not want to seem rude. These shorts, if one can even call them that, almost more like swimwear or even underwear, are finely tailored as well, fitted to the manager’s curves and bulges.
Satisfied, he leans against the flip chart, one thumb hooked into the waistband of his little shorts, watches the Sitter work and repeatedly glances back at the applicant with a smug grin.
At last, the tired man sets the pens aside and breathes, “Done.”
The manager inspects the completed work, nods with satisfaction and says, turning toward the applicant, “The Sitter concept!”
The applicant nods appreciatively, and the manager adds, “We’ll take everything with us to the meeting, so you can get a feel for how things work around here.”
The Sitter hurriedly folds up the chart, opens the door for the two men and follows them into the corridor.