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I have a knack for it. Maybe it flows from my pores as easily as blood is pumped through my body. Perhaps I am just naturally rebellious or have an unconscious desire to emit rebellion through my mouth and body movements. But yes, I have a knack for pissing Jack, my dad, off. Usually it isn’t even big. Big or small, it’s inevitable; a quick use of my wit and it is an avalanche of anger. Ahem. Hissy Fit.

 

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Yesterday, Jack and I went grocery shopping at the Harris Teeter right outside of our neighborhood.   Everything was fine. We were walking around the store trying to figure out what Beverly, who had just had a root canal, would want to eat. I walked in feeling pretty good about myself since I managed to drive all the way there without Jack critiquing my driving-very unusual. But we walked in and my eyes immediately saw the Pumpkins displayed at the front. I hopped over to them like a mature seventeen year old and gasped at how great they looked as opposed to the crappy and dented ones I would eventually end up buying because I procrastinate on everything. While I was fiddling with the pumpkins and old woman approaches me. At first I thought she was going to comment on my child like attitude, but no she had a “gift” for me.

“Here is a FREE gift!” She says with a smile and then quickly stalks away. I say thank you happy that I got a present…and then I looked at it. It was a pamphlet of some sort that said I needed to be “saved.” The words YOU ARE A SINNER AND ONLY GOD AND JESUS WILL SAVE YOUR DAMNED SOUL were plastered on the front. I remember looking up with my mouth agape at the old woman who was now across the room staring at me. And she crosses herself! I half expected her to spit between her fingers casting away the demons that I was emitting. Later, it occurred to me that maybe she thought I was fondling the Pumpkins by the way I was examining them for no dents.

And that was not the end of that visit. Like every other grocery store there were samplers spread out around every section of produce. And there was one wine sampler that was giving out the samples of both red and white wine in miniature plastic cups. Jack who has a weird obsession with wine and scotch veered automatically in her direction. While sipping on his little plastic cup of red wine, pinky stuck out, he makes a stab at being funny. “Am I going to be reprimanded if I carry this around the store?” The sampler then cackles like an actual witch- I absently look around for the Bible thumper to see where this lady’s Soul Saving Pamphlet is. While Jack and the Sampler are still exchanging casualties I move forward with the cart to get out of other people’s way. Well I am still in the wine isle when I look around and see a middle-aged woman attempting to pass me.

“I’m sorry. Are you trying to get throughhhhh….Oh Shit!” While kindly asking this lady if she needed me to move I gesture with my hands where I think she needs to go and I knock over a wine bottle. It shatters everywhere, luckily not drenching me or anyone else.

After I clamp my hands over my mouth I look to see where Jack is and see if maybe I can hide my accident. But no, he saw. And instead of making his way over to me, he stomps off in the opposite direction downing the rest of the wine from the plastic cup.

“Did your dad run away? Didn’t want to claim you?” The middle-aged woman says sweetly. She then pesters me about if I am okay or not. I move as a few people come over to clean up the mess. As I am doing this Jack walks back. Before he can say anything this middle aged woman walks up to him with a stern face and begins waving her finger at him.

“Now you be nice to him! It was an accident! And he is a very sweet and kind boy!” That is the portion of it that I heard, the rest was lost in my fit of trying to control my laughter.

Later, Jack walks up to me looking at the floor whilst shaking his head as he always does. “You are killing me” he says in voice mixed between anger and, I believe, humor.

We managed to get home without anymore incidents. Over the next few hours I became agitated over Beverly’s profession of love for Jack simply because he called and asked her what she wanted to eat. And her mother, Matilda, batting her eyes at Jack the entire time. After that I got a sour, upturned look from Beverly at what I was eating. (It was Top Ramen) For the remainder of the time I was in their presence I heard snide remarks about how I was unhealthy and so was what I was eating.

This morning I was seven minutes late getting up. Jack comes in wearing tighty whities, sees me sprawled haphazardly on my bed. And slams on the lights and begins yelling about how I am once again killing him. Go figure, I can even do it in my sleep.

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