Why did I kowtow to My Fucking Father's demands? This is what happens. He keeps bitching to me about cleaning the living room none of us uses, so yesterday I make his cranky ass happy by wiping down the leather couches.
They all have these cushions that flip over, so I try to be a completist and wipe the front, the side and the back of each of these cushions. When I flip one of these over, I hear a crash.
This couch is against the bay window in front of our house, and there's a huge sill where my parents put a lot of their crap. The only two of My Fucking Father's things on there are these two statues that seem to be made of stone and depict Chinese figures. They're about a half-foot tall and of dubious value; he thinks it's worth stuff, I don't.
I made sure to pick up all the things the cushion knocked over ... and that's when I see one of these statues in two places; the head is a couple inches away from the body. I am in shock as I try to put them together even though the head is clearly broken from the body. But fuck me, it's broken. Oh great, now it'll turn out that it indeed is priceless.
I wanted to get coffee after cleaning, but of course this shit has to come up. So now I have a choice. At first I thought I'd just fucking show My Fucking Father what he made me do: "This is what happens when you fucking bitch at me about cleaning the goddamn house!!!" And I really was spoiling for a fight, I really thought that is what I should do. But after spacing out with my mocha ice cream shake I decide to do what I usually do: Not volunteer the truth, try and make it look nothing happened and just ignore the problem altogether.
So what do I need? Super glue! I had to stay out just to go to fucking Walmart -- ugh, I feel like I have to take a shower after heading into that white trash Disneyland -- and keep the super glue in my car. After heading out to exercise that night, I made sure they were well asleep before sneaking out onto the living room late at night, taking the torso and disembodied head of this purportedly valuable statue, take both into my room, and fuse the two together.
I think it worked. I put it back where it was without incident. And I just have to hope that My Fucking Father doesn't look closely enough to notice the crack ringing the statue's neck.
See, this is why you shouldn't feel like you need to fucking clean the house every goddamn day. Father's an asshole.
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