My Dinner With My Family

We went out to dinner tonight. Funny -- no one told me!

I was exercising and cleaning up my room when I heard my brother come home. We said hi -- grunting mostly. Thought what special occasion would bring him home. Whatever -- went back to my room to watch LeBron vs. Kobe. Father knocks on the my outside wall, loudly, "Eat!" Where's the food? Whatever, I set the table. He knocks again: "What are you doing in your room?" Where's the food, goddammit? "Er, watching TV."

Then I walk outside to see my father watching TV. In nice clothes. As he walks outside so he doesn't bite my head off, I ask my brother, "Are we eating out?"

"Yes. Hong Kong Noodles." (That's not the name of the place we went to, by the way.)

"Hong Kong Noodles?"

"Yeah, they have food there."

"You don't have to be a fuckin' dick about it."

So we get dressed. Don't think my 'Rents know that I didn't know. I'll tell them tonight over dinner, hopefully in a passive-aggresive way.

We go to St. Paul. Remember being there before; not bad food. We eat. Mother asked me to finish off a dish. I wanted to add some rice to mix in with the stuff I was eating. My father took the rice dish away, as if to have some himself. While I was trying to hork all my dish down, I overheard my father say:

"Keep it away from him in case he wants to eat some more."

I looked up. He took little rice. No, he didn't take any rice.

I heard that, dad, fuck you. Fuck you, you asshole.

God, I hate my family.