Keep Daddy Happy

Every day was the same. I got home form school, did my homework with Mommy, and cleaned up after Daddy. He always made such a mess, but Mommy told me it was my ‘sponsbility to keep Daddy happy.

So I kept Daddy happy. I threw away his empty bottles, picked up shiny silver bags off the floor, and ordered pizza when he was hungry. Daddy would get really happy when I got him his favorite drink from the fridge. Daddy told me it was called “beer” and that only cool people drinked “beer”. Daddy let me have a teeny sip once. I didn’t like it, so I spitted it out. Daddy was dancing with his “beer”, so he didn’t notice. If he sawed what I did, he might get mad, and Mommy told me never ever to get Daddy mad. She told me Daddy turned into a ugly bastard when he was mad. I didn’t want to see a ugly bastard, so I kept Daddy happy.

Sometimes Daddy didn’t come home from work. That made Mommy cry. I don’t like it when Mommy cries. It makes me wanna cry too. So I hug Mommy when she cries. She hugs me back, and tells me she loves me. That makes me smile. And when I smile, Mommy smiles. Then Daddy comes home, so I go to make him happy. Mommy sometimes forgets that Daddy turns into a ugly bastard when he’s mad. She yelled at him, and I saw a ugly bastard. He was red. He yelled a lot too. I don’t think I like a ugly bastard. It scared me.

I kept Daddy happy. But sometimes he yelled. And he left. He told me he’d be home before Christmas, with a present for me. But I sawed Mommy on the phone. She said Daddy wasn’t coming home. Then Mommy cried, and I cried. I guess I didn’t make Daddy happy.