s/o to and lol @ mother's day feat. dad

on mother's day, my father single-handedly destroyed our celebratory dinner. our family is commonly known for our dinners, and the last few years, vagger has been taking over the cooking. this year, my mother's request was a very tasteful pasta dinner with vagger's trademark zuppa toscana. mind this, my father does not get down with pasta. my father doesn't even get down with cheese. as jerk of the year, my father was an hour late to the dinner because he decided to take a very long shower. also mind my sister's short fuse box, she was already losing it just waiting to finally eat. so we all sat down the table. my father, idiot of the night (i'm talkin' foot in mouth, salivating ass hat qualities) decided to power through the pasta dinner by complimenting my sister's creations with sheer sarcasm. every ten seconds--zero exaggeration--he would comment on how delicious the food was. and how he could eat this shit every day if he made it. for style and all around swagger, he'd change things up and ask her about the recipe and the ingredients whilst throwing in another fucked up compliment. she rolled her eyes and told him he was annoying and that from that night on, he was no longer invited to her dinners. i couldn't even look up the table to put a picture how tense the dinner was. i slammed my head down on my plate and ate like i was somewhere else. i felt like i could've broken my neck, wishing i'd dissolved into my seat. the best i could manage was telling him he was getting himself into severe trouble. she retorted with terse, snide comments such as "why don't you just eat at China Express." i laughed at that one, nervously. but conclusively, she topped her exit with a very controlled "shut the fuck up" and "you are so annoying." then she ran upstairs and i was left to deal with the wreckage of the dinner table. everybody left as soon as they'd finished eating because who the fuck wants to soak in that strangling dinner. it was my mother, my father, my grandmother, and me left on the table. i would've left but i didn't want to leave my mom. i saw her shoot him a very stern look. a look that i rarely see her give. the glory of the moment, i went to the fridge, popped a beer, sucked on it till i was numb, and sat back on the table. if you think my father had stopped talking after the chef's wince-worthy exit, think again. he ran his mouth until my grandmother started cleaning up the plates and doing the dishes. he ran his mouth even after i finally went upstairs and saw that vagger had been crying. his sarcasm did not once surrender. he dug his hole, kept digging, then took a nap in it with a smile on his face. it had been, by far, the dinner that will go down in history (in my history as i'm sure nobody wants to remember that fatherly fiasco). 

epilogue

my mother requested a photo after the meal. my sister was still upstairs hating my dad. she denied the request until i told her that it was for our mother. i told her to clean up her face and steady herself for one photo, so she did. the weight of the air never faltered. the blinking of the self-timer pressed on every second on the clock. after four shutter clicks of our wooden smiles, we all dispersed away from each other and i continued to have an affair with my beer. then my mother, that sweet woman, threw in another request for us to all go bowling. it was almost amazing to believe the kind of composure my sister had to manage. she rejected the request, at first, but ultimately gave in because IT'S NOT FATHER'S DAY, DAD. so we went to bowl. some of the tension stayed at home, but not entirely. also mind that beside my brother, my father's favorite is my sister. since he got the boot of the night, he tried his very best to get on my good side. he even went so far as asking if i wanted a beer. we went to the bar. he bought me a beer. he bought himself a beer. and he bought himself a shot. this was our coping mechanism of the night. bowling awkwardly while feigning celebratory enthusiasm with intermittent bar trips. 

IT WASN'T FATHER'S DAY, DAD.

hats off for being an unapologetic asshole

ps. thinking back, it was a really good time (for me)

pps. i am my dad