Ill-Advised Moment and Reflection (Post #1)

Kasey Shea

Bruewer/Creative Writing 1

Broken Sofa Tuesday

I could start by saying I remember it like it was yesterday, but frankly, I don’t. All I can remember about the date and time was it was after dinner and on a week day. I also remember my mom calling me some mean things and my dad laughing at them and then I to him when he got the same scolding in return. Oh yeah, and Dear Old Dad broke me through the couch. It wasn’t too long ago and I thought we were messing around but it was by no means, and accident.

                Like I said before, a weekday, let’s say Tuesday, and after dinner, so maybe 7:24 p.m. Well, my dad had been lifting in our “weight room” as he calls it. When it’s just a bench press, rack for dumbbells and a pull up bar. He came up stairs with his music blaring. The music isn’t disturbing; it’s just the only thing he listens to, Bruce Springsteen. He has literally maxed out four iPod nanos with The Boss and is well near halfway to maxing out an iPod Classic with him. It’s ridiculous. My dad could live with two things, his music and a mirror, as that’s exactly what he was doing when I decided to play hyena and do what I do best. Tick him off.

                He was in the living room talking to himself or maybe anyone who would listen saying garbage like, “Did a bee sting my arm? I mean look at it!” My mom was laughing herself silly when I decided I’d try to have a little fun. I walked down the steps towards the couch positioned behind the mirror, in between, stood my dad. I slowly started towards the couch and made the quick decision to speed up. I leapt onto the couch and sprung off sticking my right arm out like a flying clothesline. He saw me in the mirror and caught me in air but the collision caused my elbow to hit him in the middle of the chest. He picked me up laughing and saying a few words that I can’t say in school. He dropped me from the cradle position from about six feet in the air onto the outer frame of the couch. Not the middle cushion like a sane person who didn’t want to face my mother’s wrath. I collided with the frame and heard a thunderous crack and felt the couch cave in under me.

It didn’t even hurt. It just shocked me that I’d broken through the couch. He was laughing his butt off and so was I when lightning struck twice. My mom came in and saw what had happened. The couch wasn’t in two, but that was because the fabric hiding the frame wasn’t torn. The frame itself was split. My mom stared at us and didn’t yell which is the scariest thing ever.

She glared at us and said, “What the **** is wrong with you?” I was trying not to laugh when she targeted me.

                “You know he’s going to try to out-do you. Yet you still tick him off. He’s not your friend.” And she sent me to go to the basement. I stayed on the steps to hear what she said to my dad but my dad beat her to it.

                “It’s not broken. Look.” He said sheepishly. Like a dog that knew he was in trouble but still acted innocent. I guess he pushed it back into place. My mom wasn’t amused. My dad walked away but I could even feel the heat of my mom’s scorn as she stared him upstairs. She walked back into the kitchen and I heard her say one more thing.

                “****ing idiots” I heard a smile in her voice.

                The next day I asked my dad why he didn’t just drop me on the cushion or even the floor and he told me something that I’m still laughing about.

                “I was trying to hurt you” he laughed. I have a solid feeling that I’ll be remembering that one for a while.

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        In this writing, I think I did a good job displaying the controlled chaos within my home.I tried to portray my parents reactions best I could and showed how my dad reacted in the aftermath of the mess. I feel like I did well using better language than nice, mean etc.