2015.08.21 Tony E. Milf – Pissing Off

I roll over in bed and gently lift my head. The clock reads 7:37. I can feel the foot of our five-year-old jabbing into my crotch. I perform an inverse thrust to back myself out of his lodging and wiggle myself out of bed. My mind groans thinking the little guy wet his bed again and came into ours at some point of the night. I can’t but help feel excited about doing running his bed sheets yet again.

Stumbling, due to still being a bit stiff, in more ways than one, I head over to the can. I sit my ass down on the seat and begin to lean forward, so I can get myself aimed into the bowl, and let it flow. A minute later I start to stand and head over to the sink having purposely not flushed the toilet. out of fear of waking the bastard and the sleeping boy. I find myself hoping once more that he hadn’t pissed his bed. Finishing up at the sink I stumble less towards the stairs and head down. Near the bottom of the stairs sits my desk with my computer on it. I consider trying to get myself into the mind space of writing something. The fear of having our son wake up and ruin it due to his insistence with getting attention I decide against it. Instead, I load up a game and start clicking away.

Nearly at the end of digital victory I hear movement upstairs and recognize the stumbling of my wife towards the toilet. I remember that I hadn’t flushed and anticipate the outcry that is going to come. Sure enough, it does. “What the hell?”

I call up from below, “That was me.”

She calls out from the toilet, “Why do you do that?”

“I wasn’t trying to wake any sleeping people like we are doing now by shouting across the house.”

“Just flush the damn thing. I don’t want to wake up and that be literally the first thing I see.”

My mind, being logical, tries to envision her not opening her eyes as she makes her way towards the bathroom and only opening them upon in need of sitting down correctly. I know this isn’t true, but her vocabulary use is ‘literally’ driving me crazy.

The conversation ends and I can hear her finishing up her business, with a flush, and then heading to the sink. Seconds later I hear her saying “morning” which I can only assume is to our son.

I love my wife. I love my son. I love my alone time. These can not coexist.

My wife groans and I know my daddy duties are impending. I try to hasten the extermination of my pixel adversaries.

Then I hear the voice of destiny calling from upstairs. “He peed the bed.”

My mind remembers where our son is sleeping, “Our bed?”

My wife cries out in what I interpret as a snarky tone, “Can you ‘actually’ come up here and help me with this?”

No longer caring about my impending victory against the pixels I close the game down and push my chair back. I start to make my way up the stairs and realize, a second too late, that I have already lost as my mouth has opened up to ask, “Can you say that is in a less snarky tone?”

I don’t even get a full step up before I get drenched. “Why are you starting in with me?”

Still being clueless, I ask, “What?”

“I am asking for you to help and you start acting all bitchy with me.”

Half-way up the stairs I am fumbling for words, “You just said ‘can you” actually” help me’?”

“I did not. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

Our daughter, almost nine, uses the word ‘actually’ quite a bit. I have even nicknamed her ‘Princess Actually’ as she will start off conversations with the interjection. I will ask her “Can you take out the garbage?”

To which she will reply, “Actually I was about to do this instead.”

Kids, being the sponges they are, have to have learned it from somewhere.

Logic aside I press on, “You used that word just now.” I repeated her phrase verbatim and she looked at me like I was the devil. “Don’t be saying I said that. I didn’t say that.”

I take a certain amount of pride, probably too much, in the fact that I try not to lie whenever possible. “I’m not lying, I heard you say it.”

The fight escalates and soon enough she has collapsed down onto her knees and is crying. Both kids are now awake and making their way into our room where they are now hugging and leaning against my wife in acts of consolation.

I, being the devil tongue bastard that I am, am left standing there like the villain. I am starting to feel a bit pissed off.

– End –