Cleaning My Car: a sonnet

You cannot see my seats
Due to my wrappers, bags, and books.
My father, overwhelmingly neat,
grew tired of giving it looks.

Now he has taken my keys,
With the intent of making me clean.
He is deaf to my cries and my pleas,
and my mother will not intervene.

So i'll go pay a visit to Rex
with the intent of removing the trash,
however i know this will be complex
and i wont be done in a flash.

my clock is three and a half hours early,
by fault of my brother, surely.