Cast: Dad, Mom, Sister, and C.
C: You have exceptional skills of satire. Especially when you just repeat what was said in the voice of a retard. And that’s even greater when it’s in response to a COMPLIMENT. You big idiot. He’s really a great guy, though, most of the time.
Sister: I guess you just feel stupid around me. Everything I say is apparently an attempt to make you feel that way. The damn female turns every argument that’s going against her into “Stop using those (three-syllable sixth-grader friendly) words!” Arguments with you are infuriating. You hate logic and it hates you. And it’s all in that banshee voice of yours. She thinks everything I do in public is to embarrass her. Nobody’s conspiring against you, sis. In response to just about anything I do, you say I’m weird. Perhaps I am not totally normal, but that’s really me. I hope you understand that it hurts when you say you don’t like what I basically am: Weird.
Mom: You’re all right, mostly. You could do better on some teenage freedom issues, like bedtime. I think it’s about time that I could choose it.
Dad: Actually, I feel sorry for you. Really. You have to work every day at an unfulfilling job. Then you come home and try to get some affection. Good luck. You need ten ‘loves’ (hugs; does anybody else say that?) every frickin day, you big baby. Why don’t you try for some affection from the woman you married? Either you’re acting pitiful and in-desperate-need-of-love or you’re yelling at me. When he’s criticizing me, he doesn’t just say what I did wrong. He turns it into a character assassination. It’s not “I’m disappointed that you didn’t wash your car”, he makes it into a *you’re a bad son thing. *
You have no right to complain about things you do voluntarily. If you don’t want to pay for my car, I will. I’ve told him that I will get a job if he just says the word. He doesn’t.
Although I really love you guys, I mean, I think I do. I HOPE I do. Yeah… I’m sure I’d hate it if you died I truly don’t enjoy spending time with you. If I could live in Portland and go to college or something, I’d enjoy that. Especially, I’d enjoy never seeing you.
Once, mom said “I’m scared that when you go to college, you’ll never come back to see us.” “Oh, of COURSE not, Mom,” I reassured her. And gave her a ‘love’. But it had never really occurred to me: *when I go to college, **I don’t have to come home! * **
I feel like a bad person.
Sorry for the run-ons.
If anybody out there wants to complain about family here, that’s great. You can also tell me that I’m a failure of a son.