“Family Matters”

It was a good show but a bit of useless propaganda. You see, I was never actually close to my family. Take my brother, for instance. The man’s a slug on society. He takes all his money (read: my mother’s money… well, really, my dad’s money) and spends it on pot and internet poker. It’s hard to care about a man who just spends all his time throwing thousands (I wish I was joking) of dollars into a computer and smoking it away. He shows no signs of being useful to anyone, ever. This can be accented by the line of drool from his mouth and that glazed look in his eye. The internet poker rules his life. It’s just a click here, drag here, bet here. Lose it all. Frustrating to watch.

 

My brother’s not the only addictive personality, either. My parents are no better. Here we’ve got a dad who’s a stark traditionalist. Patriotic, alcoholic, workaholic, and unaware of the mechanics of a working home life. He still likes to talk about the “war,” meaning World War II. We’re convinced he went senile in his 30s. The guy repeats stories and doesn’t even recognize his kids sometimes. He sure doesn’t worry about the money draining from his account like an open wound. Probably all the booze damaged his brain cells. Who knows? Mom’s also a bit of a loon. Something of an enabler, she doddles around the house, fussing over dust on a porcelain elephant or a spot on the carpet. If dad was the part to tear everything apart and then get to drunk to put it together again, Mom would be the type to take a toothbrush and magnifying glass to everything. She’s an enabler, though. Doesn’t want anything to put a crack in the family. Doesn’t want anyone to be mad at each other or her entire world will fall apart.

 

And what’s my deal? Does it even matter? Well, I like drama. I thrive off it. So maybe I was born into the perfect family or maybe I wasn’t after all. There are subtle undercurrents of drama, cracks that really aren’t visible but that are threatening the very foundation of the household. These are the things that get me excited. I can’t even wonder as to why I get energized around Thanksgiving. I like to watch and voyeurize and contemplate and revel. Family doesn’t matter so much, but it’s fun to watch a train about to wreck, isn’t it? Just have to remember to walk away fast as soon as it does.

 

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Filed under Flash Fiction, Session XX

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