Five Ways In Which Father Ruined My Slumber Party

Dear reader, you have no way of knowing the indignities that I’ve suffered because of father, that scoundrel of a man who’s deemed it his mission to make my life a living Heck. His antics are enough to make me want to swear out loud in front of Mother. He’s committed yet another series of atrocities, this time at the slumber party I hosted for my teammates on the fancy lad jumping rope team – here are the worst, although not all, of the acts committed by father.

Showing Off His Monster Hands

It isn’t simply that father spends days upon days in his workshop wrapping his hands in papier-mâché and latex to build mitt after mitt that looks as if it were pulled from a Frankenstein itself. It’s that he insists on wearing them and grabbing my cheeks, or patting my teammates on the head with them. Leave the monster hands in the workshop, father.

Introducing Everyone To The Tiny Pilot Who Lives In His Desk

Gauge St. Cloud is a man in miniature who was shrunk down to a size that’s no bigger than a large grasshopper by a dose of gamma radiation. Is he a miracle of modern science? Absolutely. Does he tell charming stories of his time spent living with the bug people of San Diego? Of course. But I don’t care for father parading him around the way he does. And why keep Gauge St. Cloud locked away in a desk? I have many quarrels with the way my father spends his days.

Hosting A Hot Dog Eating Contest “For The Boys”

The boys do love their hot dogs. Why, I once watched as Humbert ate three in a row with nothing more than mustard and pickled. What a hungry sailor he must of have been. Still, insisting that my teammates eat dog after dog while we’re trying to play a game of blindfolded Scrabble is downright rude.

Testing His Homemade Fire Alarm

Yes, father, we’re all aware that you’ve built your own fire alarm. We know because you won’t stop lighting matches in front of the sensor and cackling as the bullhorn you’ve attached to a recording of your voice shouts at us through the hallways. Oh how I wish that father would fall asleep in the sun and burn to crisp.

Enveloping Himself In The Starless Void Which Surrounds Our Universe

There is an empty, blank void which gapes out at us at all times, but which is only visible when the walls between realities are at its most thin not to be tampered with. Yet father deems this void his plaything. I don’t know why he chose my sleepover as the perfect time in which he should dissipate into the void with the power of The Amulet, only to then reappear as the sun rose, but he did and I’m hopping mad.