Growing up in our household was like a roller coaster ride, what with slow suspenseful climbs, ups & downs, twists & turns, and brain-rattling rails and wooden supports of questionable construction. I can recall twice being so scared I thought I would die from nervousness if not at my father's hands. We always played outside, most often with the doors locked and orders not to try to come in until called in. One afternoon I thought it would be cool to set our garden hose to the ground and, while running full blast see how far into the ground it would go. I guess I let my little water drilling exercise go on a little longer than I should've and the hose ended up getting stuck, though I cannot recall how far down it'd gone. I felt like vomiting for what seemed at the time like hours until I finally somehow managed to pull that hose out. Yeah, something so stupid would've gotten me the beating of a lifetime. The other moment, which I believe went on for several days, was when I was forced to answer a phone call while my father stood feet away, always reluctant to answer calls himself due to who the fuck knows what. I wasn't even 12 at the time, and I tried my best to remember what the caller said (it was obviously someone who was owed money or something), and when I was unable to relay the message to my father who was now towering over me, he threatened me with my life if the guy didn't call back.
What's that? My hour's up already? Okay, see you next week Doc.
