I'm Just Not Going To Forget My Fucking Father When He Uses That Goddamn Tone Of Us To Me. He's Used It Too Often. And I Just Won't.

I went downstairs to: grab a Pepsi; check around to see if the big scissors I used to cut open the fertilizer this afternoon was down there (if they were it meant they came home, found the scissors and put it away; I didn't see it, so there's a remote possibility they're gone), and to see what the commotion I heard all night was about.

In the dark I knock over something.  Shit!  I knew My Father would wake up because he's paranoid like that.  But I have to see and pick up what I knocked over, so I turn on the downstairs dimmer dial.  Naturally I hear the door open up; it's My Fucking Father, who ostensibly is on the way to take one of his prostate-demanding piss breaks in the middle of the night but asks me if I'm OK.

I am, I told him, and I start turning down the dial, which is brighter than it has to be, because I didn't want to dilate his pupils or wake up Mother.  But then I inadvertently turn it down all the way to off, to which My Fucking Father said in Chinese, "Turn it up!"  I keep trying to describe the tone of voice he says that in, the way he usually says that, the way he's done so all my years on this Earth, and it pisses me off to no end.  He said that, and he says many things to me, in a whiny tone of voice.  It's like, if he were saying that to me in English, he would end his insulting comment with, "Duh!" or "Why aren't you ..." or he'd say it in a way that implies, "Well, of course you should do/say this that way!  What's a matter with you?"

Hate it.  Always hated it, always will.  So Fuck You, Father, Fuck You in the ass.  Once a-fucking-gain.