My B-side

Bad Kid

My dad headed out to IGA for the L and T while I held the fort in charge of the B. I only had 45 minutes till I was due in hell for another go at it…it being torturous weed eating, or whacking for those DC folk. So I tossed the bacon into the skillet and got crazy. After a 5 minute sizzle I wondered what the deal was. My bacon was still looking unattractively rare. I threw it onto the plate. Magically, it turned char. Seriously burnt like a Bob Marley fan. Round two: Same modus operandi, more attention to the rotation of individual pieces. My dad came home mid procedure. I laughed and explained,"If the world depended on my bacon-makin skills we’d all die." He looked in the sink at the pieces of meat turned Reggae-impersonators. Instantaneously I saw his jaw-tighten. Cue for he’s-gonna-make-a-scene. “You just threw away good bacon! And why did you leave this plate so close to the stove?!" He hurled the plate into the sink and looked at me all crazy-eyed. My expression turned fierce, “Oh, I’m sorry, Father. I was under the impression that objects made of ceramic could withstand high temperatures bearing in mind the process by which they are ultimately created. Ya know, in a kiln, temperatures reaching 1300 degrees Fahrenheit.” He backed down. Not five seconds later, totally in my face with, "WHY ARE YOU BURNING THAT BACON!!!!” Alright enough of this shiz. “PROBABLY, because SOMEONE was too busy with WORK or too busy LEAVING to teach me how to properly COOK IT!!!! Yes, parents-of-the-year award, to you and Mom yet again. Congratulations.” With that I grabbed a peach, ran to my room and cried for the rest of my lunch hour. I really wanted a BLT.

posted by Melissa at 22:05