The other day, I was fixing a bowl of cereal for my sister. I poured the milk and then was about to pour the cereal when my sister screamed at me and proceeded to violently punch me repeatedly in my back. I don't know why she was doing this. At first, I thought it might be a massauge. I turned around and saw that her eyes were filled with rage.
When I asked what the Hell she was doing, she said I "broke" her breakfast. I was confused by her unreasonable explanation that I'm supposed to pour the cereal first. I responded simply by saying "that's not the only way to do it." She continued to onslaught me with a barrage of tiny, weak fists. My mom comes over and asks what's going on. I explained the whole situation and you wouldn't believe what she did: grounded me for saying "Hell" in front of my sister, which she can say and get off free-of-charge. I then argued with my mom about whether or not my sister deserved punishment.
Me: "She was punching me!"
Mom: "You said a bad word!"
Me: "It's not bad, we say it in church."
Mom: "That is not true!"
Me: "But-"
Mom: "Grounded for a total of 4 weeks! Want another 2 more?"
At that point, I shut up and stormed up stairs. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my mom picking up the phone. I didn't give a care who she was gonna call. All I knew is that I was in or a lot of trouble.
After school, when my mom got home, she had some papers to show me. They were for a mental asylum. Apparently, my mom thought I was insane for "arguing so fiercely", so she made me fill them out. After they were mailed out, I was sure my life was over. I began crying, hoping that everyone would leave me alone. But, being the guy tht I was, I sucked it up pretty quick and just sat in my room, waiting.
The next day, I waited, looking out the window, trying to spot a white, unmarked van. But instead, my dad came! Even though my parents were divorced, they relied on each other a lot. I knew my dad would see the truth.
When I came downstairs to greet him, he told me to go upstairs. I didn't understand. Were my seperated parents about to fight? I sat in my room, motionless, for 5 hours, before inwas called downstairs. Apparently, my dad "reminded" my mom that I was 14, so I was dealing with puberty. I was "going through emotional changes, only to act more different than ever". I praised my dad for his help.
From that day last week until I die, my dad will be who I call if I need help. Especially if I'm about to get locked up over a bowl of cereal.
No comments:
Post a Comment