The Trouble With Mondays

by Isobel Morrow

"Monday. Put your hands in the air. You're under arrest!"

"Please, no! This is all a mistake! I don't understand - it's not my fault, I swear!"

"Shut up, Monday. Put your hands up and get in the car, kid."

The benches in the courtroom are hard and uncomfortable. Monday feels his butt going numb as the judge drones on and on about consequences, letting his family down, court charges, blah blah blah. He's still reeling from the guards dragging him into the van and bringing him here. How could this be his fault? He's just Monday - sure, everybody likes the other days better, but he's still necessary. Why is the judge putting charges against him?

"It's NOT MY FAULT!" he wants to yell to the whole court.

His brothers sit in the jury area, glaring at him as only family can. Tuesday, wearing a dishevelled suit and half-smile... Wednesday, all neat and tidy but never happy: the middle child...Thursday, tired but amicable; Friday, laid-back and chill, and Saturday, grinning even in a situation like this. Sunday is nowhere to be seen... probably late as always.

"You'll bring the whole family down with behaviour like this, Monday. Is that what you really want?" The judge is still talking, looking disdainfully at Monday as if he was a misbehaving student.

"It's not what I want, and I can't see how any of this is my fault." Monday folds his arms defiantly.

Friday stands up. Everyone likes Friday, and if he's against Monday, he's going to be in big trouble.

Friday speaks, "It's our jobs as the weekdays to bring happiness and keep balance for everyone. People have stopped liking you, Monday, because you're always tired and you don't work hard."

"I try my best!" He won't go down without a fight; however, his cheeks flush in indignation and tears threaten to burn through the backs of his eyes.

Suddenly, the huge door of the courtroom slams open.

"Sorry I'm late," mumbles Sunday.

The judge leaps on the opportunity like a wild dog hunting rabbits. "Look, Monday! Even Sunday's pressing charges! You're stressing him out, Monday. You're stressing everyone out! Even the thought of you makes people tired and grumpy."

"Some people are already tired and grumpy," he says, looking the judge directly in the eyes, "and I'm just someone for you to blame."
"Sure, you call me the worst day, but can't that be any of us? It's not what day it is, but how you spend it. It's not my fault people have to go to school, or work. If we didn't have Monday, what would we do? We wouldn't be prepared for the rest of the week. We wouldn't be able to just get it all over with in one day. Like it or not, we need Monday. We need ME."

There's an awed silence in the courtroom, like he'd just used up all the words with his speech.

He reckons he's done enough.

Anyway, it's Tuesday's turn tomorrow.