Sunday, June 08, 2003

Note to self: Do not leave mom sitting in the car at a gas station, without the keys, and head home. Even though it seems like a great idea at the time, ultimately her thirst for revenge will overshadow giddy feelings.

Yesterday was really interesting. I decided to take my mother, a.k.a. source of all evil, to dinner at Red Lobster. We both enjoying eating at the seafood Mecca, so in theory it seemed like a great idea. Dad asked me to take his car, since it had air I agreed. Also, as a favor he wanted me to fill it up and put in a quart of oil. I am not terribly familiar with where the oil goes; usually a mechanic or daddy takes care of it for me. Though, for whatever reason, I took one on the chin and agreed to his request.

Upon arriving to the gas station I proceed to fill up the tank. Five minutes, and twenty-five dollars later the deed was done. After paying the attendant for the gas and a quart of oil it was now time to face destiny. I have put in oil a grand total of four times previous, never in this vehicle in particular. Popped open the hood, searched for the cap for a couple minutes, and then eureka I found it. This was the easy part; all I had to do was pour into the hole. However, fate deemed it necessary to test my resolve, in the form my mother. Shortly after removing the oil cap, she began heckling me. "Is that the right hole? Are you sure it is right one? You are going to ruin the engine? Why would your dad let you do this?" My intestinal fortitude did not waver, even in the face of absolute evil. Nonetheless, every man has a breaking point. Mine was when she blew the horn for five seconds. The sound bellowed in my ear and rhyme or reason no longer applied. I promptly stopped pouring the oil, sat it down beside the van and walked away. There was a voice in the background, vainly trying to apologize, but it was too little, too late. I walked home. A little over half way there it dawned on me that the car keys were still in my pocket. Should I leave the banshee where she was? Most assuredly yes, but the leaving the van was another matter. Father would be angry. Therefore, I pushed my anger deep inside, where it would fester, waiting until another day to come to fruition, and walked back. When I arrived she was sitting there chain smoking, screaming and nearly in tears. For a fleeting moment I was happy. I took her home listening half-heartily to the threats of bodily harm.

The story doesn't end here. Later that evening, around 9:00 pm, mom called. She would have revenge for embarrassing her so. I turned off the phone, but it was for naught. I am fairly sure she lurked around the trailer all night, waiting for me to come out. My anger was nothing compared to her loathsome hate. Even today, with the light still shining I am afraid. Monsters do in fact exist, and I happen to live next door to one.


go to hell