The Recent Happenings of the Wick Household.
My father told me not to tell anyone and I suppose I’m obeying him, after all, I’m only writing in my journal. Right? I cannot help it if people read it. I don’t see why he’s making me keep it to myself anyhow. It’s a common enough occurrence, and with society desensitized as it is, I don’t see how anyone will find anything but amusement in it.
Yesterday, after only being home one night, Adrian went back to Mom’s, ostensibly to help her with one of the puppies that mysteriously died. After bringing me home from the library, and about to leave again to take me to my Civil Air Patrol meeting, my father walks upstairs with a tape in hand. He asks me if I’ve seen it, and seeing ‘Star 69’ on the label, I reply that I had not. I asked him what it was, and he muttered nothing. He then puts the tape in a drawer, and I make a note of it, because I know it is something. But since he is being so secretive and over a tape, I suspect I know what it is already. I smile to myself, and go on with my day.
Later on that night, I am sitting on the patio with my father, and I enquire again about the tape. He tries to steer conversation away from it, and with a flush on his face! I know what it is, and this time I do not hold back. I boldly say what it is I’m thinking, “It is porn, isn’t it?” His face flushes all the more and that gives me all the answer I need. He then confirms, in speech what it is I already know. He attempts to make a mystery out of the owner of the tape, and after humorously suggesting him and my grandfather as the owners, I make known the obvious fact that it is my younger brother.
The fact stated aloud jogs a memory of earlier in the day, my brother and I sitting in the formal Living room, recounting for each other the happenings in the recent weeks, for a good deal of time has passed since we had last conversed. Adrian had mentioned the night before, spent in the basement where he stayed, watching the television box and conversing with his current sweetheart on his mobile telephone device. The way it went, he told me, he was flipping through the channels, unaware of our father’s presence near the stairway. The remote controller, by chance, had landed on the Home Box Office Channel, where some rather obscene show was playing. He had paused on it, but for innocent curiosity he assured me, and just as he was about to change to a different picture, my father made himself known, startling him and he accidentally switched the television box off. My father scolded him for such ungentlemanly behavior, and my younger brother exclaimed his shock at what the cable network companies were playing on the television box!
I shared this memory with my father, and he smiles, and adds in and does some editing of my tale, and tells it from his point of view. My father adds in the fact that the Videocassette Recorder device’s timer was running, clear evidence of the fact that a tape was running, and also showing my brother as concocting a false account to evade punishment. He does his scolding, and upstairs he goes, and checks the Home Box Office channels to be sure that his assumption is in fact correct.
Oh, how this all amuses me! Never did I suspect my younger brother had a collection of such indecent material, though it does not overly shock me. I thought my brother cleverer, though not intelligent, than to leave such incriminating evidence in such plain view! He has potential to be intelligent, if only he would value learning and books as much as I. But he lacks the common sense, sorrowfully. He spends his days running about with undeveloped, primitive lads! I wish mother and father would insist upon him keeping with intelligent, classy company such as I do. And by my own will, no less! It shows I have more sense that he, though I receive no credit, for anything I do. It is disheartening, and maddening. I must do everything alone, to help myself become Someone. I have no mentor to guide me. My Mother would be joyful if I gave her grandchildren to dote on, and my Father would be satisfied if I would be his maid, keeping the house tidy and his belly full. I deplore being born to such restricting parents! I suppose I should look elsewhere for moral support!
Yesterday, after only being home one night, Adrian went back to Mom’s, ostensibly to help her with one of the puppies that mysteriously died. After bringing me home from the library, and about to leave again to take me to my Civil Air Patrol meeting, my father walks upstairs with a tape in hand. He asks me if I’ve seen it, and seeing ‘Star 69’ on the label, I reply that I had not. I asked him what it was, and he muttered nothing. He then puts the tape in a drawer, and I make a note of it, because I know it is something. But since he is being so secretive and over a tape, I suspect I know what it is already. I smile to myself, and go on with my day.
Later on that night, I am sitting on the patio with my father, and I enquire again about the tape. He tries to steer conversation away from it, and with a flush on his face! I know what it is, and this time I do not hold back. I boldly say what it is I’m thinking, “It is porn, isn’t it?” His face flushes all the more and that gives me all the answer I need. He then confirms, in speech what it is I already know. He attempts to make a mystery out of the owner of the tape, and after humorously suggesting him and my grandfather as the owners, I make known the obvious fact that it is my younger brother.
The fact stated aloud jogs a memory of earlier in the day, my brother and I sitting in the formal Living room, recounting for each other the happenings in the recent weeks, for a good deal of time has passed since we had last conversed. Adrian had mentioned the night before, spent in the basement where he stayed, watching the television box and conversing with his current sweetheart on his mobile telephone device. The way it went, he told me, he was flipping through the channels, unaware of our father’s presence near the stairway. The remote controller, by chance, had landed on the Home Box Office Channel, where some rather obscene show was playing. He had paused on it, but for innocent curiosity he assured me, and just as he was about to change to a different picture, my father made himself known, startling him and he accidentally switched the television box off. My father scolded him for such ungentlemanly behavior, and my younger brother exclaimed his shock at what the cable network companies were playing on the television box!
I shared this memory with my father, and he smiles, and adds in and does some editing of my tale, and tells it from his point of view. My father adds in the fact that the Videocassette Recorder device’s timer was running, clear evidence of the fact that a tape was running, and also showing my brother as concocting a false account to evade punishment. He does his scolding, and upstairs he goes, and checks the Home Box Office channels to be sure that his assumption is in fact correct.
Oh, how this all amuses me! Never did I suspect my younger brother had a collection of such indecent material, though it does not overly shock me. I thought my brother cleverer, though not intelligent, than to leave such incriminating evidence in such plain view! He has potential to be intelligent, if only he would value learning and books as much as I. But he lacks the common sense, sorrowfully. He spends his days running about with undeveloped, primitive lads! I wish mother and father would insist upon him keeping with intelligent, classy company such as I do. And by my own will, no less! It shows I have more sense that he, though I receive no credit, for anything I do. It is disheartening, and maddening. I must do everything alone, to help myself become Someone. I have no mentor to guide me. My Mother would be joyful if I gave her grandchildren to dote on, and my Father would be satisfied if I would be his maid, keeping the house tidy and his belly full. I deplore being born to such restricting parents! I suppose I should look elsewhere for moral support!