My story...

I don't know why parents are always weird or sometimes behave weird but this is a little lifetime story that I will live to tell my great-grandchildren if God wishes so. It happens that we on holiday back then in primary school, who even wants to hear about primary stories, anyway let me steal a second or even a minute from your busy schedule and tell you about my story. We are at home with my sister and cousin ( names are not important) for three weeks of staying at home, my dad decides to give us a composition to write about; never mind what the topic was all about because I can't even remember. When the three week holiday was almost over and my cousin had to rush home to see his mum and pick some stuff, he did the composition and left his paper for marking next to my father's normal seat. After two weeks if his depature and my dad realises that we have not submitted ours, he calls us and all we could do at the moment is keep our mouths shut having no proper reason to give him. He closed the door and whipped us for not doing the composition in time and handing it over to him... Are you still concentrating... Imagine how the whips of a belt would taste on your skin, yeah I mean taste... You know I still don't get it why he whipped us using his belt that ended up not being a belt again because it got spoilt. But then why do parents have to use a belt as a cane to correct while it is very clear to everyone what function a belt has when wearing a trouser or a short. That specific day the poor belt had lost its meaning and use and I think a belt is one of the attires that if it was human it could have gone to court and complained how it is being misused. The most annoying part of my story is that we wrote our compositions after the beating and later they were never marked (are you thinking what I'm thinking). What a waste if time it was. You know they acted like deacorations on his side chair where he puts his books. Thats the point you feel like giving father a punch but then you are an ant in his presence. And after all this, he still manages to smile at us thinking the beating was a show and we should smile back. The anger that boils within me is like a volcano eruption; how absurd, parents are always the best but sometimes can be annoying though what makes me happy is that despite all these, you still call them, dad, mum, papa and mama. 

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