by Theresa Moleski
My dad is on his high horse or should I say his raging high horse. It seems that one of my lousy stinking, good for nothing rotten brothers disfigured one of Mom's good forks. I stayed well out of the way of the fury by ducking under the table. I caught every word stupid brother was saying in his useless defense.
I mean really! In the name of science?
He took the fork, bent back the two middle prongs and got my youngest brother who is an underdeveloped freak of nature to stuff said fork into a power outlet. Dad said that if his rubber soled shoes hadn't worked as an insulate, that he could have fried every nerve in his body.
I'm not sure what an insulate is but it must be pretty important. Yes, I'm still stuck with five lousy stinking, good for nothing, rotten old brothers and the safest place to be is here, under the table.
©2003 Theresa Moleski. Used by permission.
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