Parents Just Don't Understand
So after dropping cups on hardwood floors and getting my foot stuck in Heidi's car, the thought of going home and passing out in my intoxicated oblivion seemed quite inviting; but first, a mission to Jack N' the Box was to be made, because Jinna put Chicken Strip thoughts inside of my head.
After dropping off the bladder-challenged, I was off next. Goodbyes were said and before I knew it Heidi's car was gone.
Armed with a fast-food arsenal of a Coke w/ no ice, fries, and Chicken Strips in one arm, I fumbled in my pockets for my keys with the other.
I checked the time on my cellphone (3:56 am) and walked inside my dimly-lit house.
"Dimly lit?"
I began to wonder why my house wasn't pitch black, and I soon recieved my answer.
"Donde has handado?" a voice groaned in the background.
(Where have you been?)
::TV Blooper music in the background::
My thought at that moment was something like, "Fuck, doesn't she have anything better to do than to kill highs?"
But before I had a chance to give a verbal response, her right hand found a BRIGHTER light switch and she looked at my eyes and moved in closer to smell my breath. Her groggy countenance was soon replaced to one of disappointment and frustration.
"I can't believe you," she nagged.
The only response my inebriated mind could fluster was, "I didn't drive."
Obviously, this didn't satisfy my mother, so a one-voiced conversation ensued about my lack of responsibilities, priorities and the such. Then she contined to babble about my lack of respect for parents, the law (she found weed shake in my car carpet a week ago) and myself. By this point, I began to suspect that she thought I lacked as a person in general. She told me that I was heading down a road to nowhere and that real people don't drink. This all before she said that I was going to turn into my dad.
It was at that moment that I stopped listening. For the past few years, my parents have had and will always have an ensuing argment that simmers down at the strangest moments, but I'm bored of it now, so I just tune it out and anything associated with it whenever it comes up.
My left hand was getting really cold at this time, so I look down and I see a Jack N' the Box cup in my hand. After all this time, I was still holding on to my fast-food arsenal. Wow. I wonder how I must've looked to my mom holding the bag after this whole time, which to me seemed like half an hour already. This brought me back to reality again, so I set the food down and resume listening to my mom again. She was now talking about how people doing what I do end up living shitty lives. Basically reiterating what she has been droning on and on about for the past hour.
Surely enough this all had a purpose, and her nagging culminated into an ultimatum: "Either you respect this house, cut that drunk bullshit and come home at a decent hour, or you move out of here and I will never have anything to do with you. So choose."
Half of me wanted to pick up my Chicken Strips, turnaround, and walk back out the door. However, my other half, the logical, reasonable half, made me submit and choose the most obvious answer,
"I guess I'm going to abide by your rules, Mom."
Although I couldn't tell by her facial expression, I knew she was satisfied when she turned around and left. Relieved, I snatched up my Chicken Strips and popped in "HurlyBurly" on DVD (Those who have seen this movie will sense the irony).
I checked the time again on my cellphone (4:07 am) before I put it on its charger and I plopped down on my bed munching on my Chicken Strips happy as can be thinking to myself, "Fuck, I should've just smoked bud."
After dropping off the bladder-challenged, I was off next. Goodbyes were said and before I knew it Heidi's car was gone.
Armed with a fast-food arsenal of a Coke w/ no ice, fries, and Chicken Strips in one arm, I fumbled in my pockets for my keys with the other.
I checked the time on my cellphone (3:56 am) and walked inside my dimly-lit house.
"Dimly lit?"
I began to wonder why my house wasn't pitch black, and I soon recieved my answer.
"Donde has handado?" a voice groaned in the background.
(Where have you been?)
::TV Blooper music in the background::
My thought at that moment was something like, "Fuck, doesn't she have anything better to do than to kill highs?"
But before I had a chance to give a verbal response, her right hand found a BRIGHTER light switch and she looked at my eyes and moved in closer to smell my breath. Her groggy countenance was soon replaced to one of disappointment and frustration.
"I can't believe you," she nagged.
The only response my inebriated mind could fluster was, "I didn't drive."
Obviously, this didn't satisfy my mother, so a one-voiced conversation ensued about my lack of responsibilities, priorities and the such. Then she contined to babble about my lack of respect for parents, the law (she found weed shake in my car carpet a week ago) and myself. By this point, I began to suspect that she thought I lacked as a person in general. She told me that I was heading down a road to nowhere and that real people don't drink. This all before she said that I was going to turn into my dad.
It was at that moment that I stopped listening. For the past few years, my parents have had and will always have an ensuing argment that simmers down at the strangest moments, but I'm bored of it now, so I just tune it out and anything associated with it whenever it comes up.
My left hand was getting really cold at this time, so I look down and I see a Jack N' the Box cup in my hand. After all this time, I was still holding on to my fast-food arsenal. Wow. I wonder how I must've looked to my mom holding the bag after this whole time, which to me seemed like half an hour already. This brought me back to reality again, so I set the food down and resume listening to my mom again. She was now talking about how people doing what I do end up living shitty lives. Basically reiterating what she has been droning on and on about for the past hour.
Surely enough this all had a purpose, and her nagging culminated into an ultimatum: "Either you respect this house, cut that drunk bullshit and come home at a decent hour, or you move out of here and I will never have anything to do with you. So choose."
Half of me wanted to pick up my Chicken Strips, turnaround, and walk back out the door. However, my other half, the logical, reasonable half, made me submit and choose the most obvious answer,
"I guess I'm going to abide by your rules, Mom."
Although I couldn't tell by her facial expression, I knew she was satisfied when she turned around and left. Relieved, I snatched up my Chicken Strips and popped in "HurlyBurly" on DVD (Those who have seen this movie will sense the irony).
I checked the time again on my cellphone (4:07 am) before I put it on its charger and I plopped down on my bed munching on my Chicken Strips happy as can be thinking to myself, "Fuck, I should've just smoked bud."