One day I came to the unfortunate realization my father was a complete whore.
I was suddenly awakened by the
sounds of shouting. I looked over at the clock. The dim green light
enraged me in the form of 12:23. Dammit, I thought. I'd only been
asleep for half an hour, and I knew I wouldn't get back to sleep
until at least twice that had passed. I had to wake up in about four
hours to go to my crappy job that I hated, and now I was going to
have to work on basically no sleep. Making Tuscani pasta for the Orca
whales that ate their breakfast at Target's “food court.”
Pathetic low lives. And was I really any better than them? Serving out the gruel coated rubber they slid down their throats?
I forcefully tossed my Teenage
Mutant Ninja Turtles comforter to the right and slipped into my
Deerfoams. I walked down the stairs to see what all the ruckus was
about.
“IT WAS YEARS AGO, LIZBETH.
OVER TWENTY YEARS.”
“DON'T GIVE ME THAT CRAP,
CRAIG. EIGHTEEN GIRLS BEFORE JUNIOR YEAR EVEN BEGAN? DO YOU KNOW HOW
DISGUSTING IT IS TO IMAGINE YOUR PENIS BEING INSIDE ME AFTER ENTERING
THAT MANY PIMPLY PUBESCENT VAGINAS? REALLY FUCKING DISGUSTING,
CRAIG.”
“IT WAS BEFORE WE MET DAMMIT.”
“OH NO, WE HAD MET. WE JUST
WEREN'T A THING YET.”
“Oh...ummm-”
“WHOOOOREE. WHORE, WHORE,
WHORE, WHORE, WHORE. YOU TOLD ME YOU WERE A VIRRRRGIN.”
“OH AND YOU BELIEVED THAT? I
WAS A STUD BACK THEN. YOU KNOW THOSE LITTLE MACHINES THAT FIND STUDS BEHIND WALLS? I COULD SET ONE OF THOSE FUCKERS OFF FROM A MILE AWAY, LIZBETH. MAYBE EVEN ONE POINT TWO MILES IF MY HAIR WAS PROPERLY GELLED.”
I had told them that the high school
reunion was a terrible idea. I decided that I wasn't even going to
bother. Before my parents could come in from the garage I headed back
to my room, placed my Dr. Dre Beats over my ears, and set myself down
in bed. As Kenny G attempted to sax me to sleep, I couldn't help but
ponder over what an incredibly ginormous slut my father was.
Update: My parents are actually just
inconsiderate assholes. I got home for the day around 7PM, and they
were just lounging on the couch watching the Voice. “Hey, Jamie!”
How dare my father speak to me after the egregious offenses of the
previous night. I had had so little sleep that I didn't even remember
having had an erection. Erections were my favorite parts of my sleep
cycle, and he had taken that away from me. I expected a fantastically
crafted dialogue of apology to spew forth from their mouths, but
instead I got a “How was your day son?” After several minutes of
employing subtlety and passivity to express my fury, I discovered
that my parents were simply performing an acting exercise from a
Meisner book somebody had left on a BART seat. I should have known
something was awry because my mother's name is Megan and my father's
is Daniel. Upon inquiring why they chose to perform the exercise at
such an hour, they informed me that they had been high out of their
minds on shrooms my father had purchased in an effort to recapture
their youth. I slept especially early that night.
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