Saturday, October 15, 2016

Top Quality

I remember waking up and watching T.V with my brothers on Saturday morning. We knew that we had to be quiet, because otherwise my mom would wake up screaming at us. A lot of my childhood was built around trying to avoid giving my mom cause to scream. Much of my adulthood was that as well. Here's a short one about being quiet:


This house is a quiet house

Daddy thinks I'm dumb. He thinks I don't know anything. I'm almost 6 years old. I know things. I know how to add and take away. I know how to spell big words like Change and House. I know that he works for "Mr. Bob" downtown and that "Mr. Bob is a piece of shit". I don't know what a piece of shit is, but I know that "shit" is a bad word and I shouldn't say it. I know that red and blue makes purple and yellow and red make orange. I know how to tie my shoe like a big kid. I know how to call Grammy on the phone. I know to stop at the corner and wait for Daddy. I know that Santa isn't real (Duh), and I know that when we lived in the old house, Mommy kept whiskey behind the good glasses in the cupboard. 

Daddy works a lot; when I wake up on Saturday morning, I make sure to stay extra quiet so that he can sleep. Daddy isn't mean, but if he doesn't get enough sleep, he yells at me. It makes me mad and it makes me scream. Then he sends me to my room and I have to sit on the bed and I can't watch T.V or read or nothing. When he's asleep, the house is quiet and so I turned the T.V low so I can watch cartoons. I live in a small house, so if the T.V's too loud then the whole house hears it. 

My favorite cereal is Captain Pops because it has marshmallows that look like rockets and my favorite show is Adventure Man. I love Adventure Man. He's so cool. He can fly an airplane by himself. I was watching Adventure Man when my Mommy calls me. She says "Darling! Darling!" so loud that I can't hear Adventure Man says stuff. I want to turn up the T.V, but I can't because the loud T.V will wake up Daddy. So, I get up and go see what Mommy wants. 

She's outside like always. Daddy told me that when Mommy was gone things would be different, but he lied. Mommy still yells at me. Mommy still tells to do things for her, like when she used to tell me to get the whiskey down from the cupboard for her, or when she used to tell me not to tell Daddy when Mr. Bob would come over. Daddy thinks I don't know that Mommy lives in the ground now where he put her. I don't know how he doesn't hear her calling him every night. Maybe he doesn't know how to listen. I always listen to Mommy when she talks. She tells me that I'm the only one who listens to her at all. She's not like Daddy. She doesn't think I'm dumb at all.