So the new year has started and I decided I should write a mini book about random tales about my life. But given the fact that I am an atrocious writer, I decided that I should just blog these tales first. Also, I feel a bit douchebag-gy writing about myself. hahah.
Anyways, here is my first story:
I am the first to admit that every ass whooping I got from my parents were well deserved. I may not have turned out to be a doctor or lawyer, like they wanted but I believe that I am fairly well adjusted. Sure I still got problems and have thoughts that should get me locked up but I guess that is why I do stand up.
My ass whoopings were many and memorable. However, I will never forget my first one. At the tender age of 2, I was left alone in the living room. My parents, grandmother, aunts, and uncles were in the kitchen talking and having a good time. I remember it being pretty cold and I was sitting on top of an electric blanket. So no matter how much I cranked up the dial on the blanket, it was just not warm enough to keep me warm. I remember thinking how I was going to keep myself warm and toasty. I figured that fire was hot so I proceeded to go find something to start a fire. My dad was a professional smoker back then. He would smoke about 2 packs of Malboro’s a day. Like I see people smoke cigarettes and most people I meet are amateurs in my eyes. Chain smoking doesn’t really impress me either. My dad smoked so much that people with emphysema would tell him to calm down. So undoubtedly I found a lighter nearby. You guys have to understand that I was kind of brilliant and retarded at the same time. For a 2 year old to figure out that fire is hot and would warm me up is brilliant. That’s problem solving skills. To find a lighter and figure out how it works is also pretty damn genius if you ask me. The retarded thing about the incident is that I almost set my whole damn house on fire. So I light the electric blanket and immediately feel warm. But there was this feeling somewhere in my gut. I like to call it the “oh shit” response. Every time I am doing something potentially life altering, I usually feel this feeling because I usually make a shitty decision. Inevitably, the people around will respond by saying “oh shit”.
So the electric blanket is on fire and my dad runs into the living room because of the smell carpet burning. He proceeds to get a wet towel and puts out the fire. He is frantically hitting the fire with this demented look in his eyes. This should have been a sign of things to come because as soon as he put out the fire. He decided to put me out. With the same demonic look as mentioned above, he fixes his glare at me and proceeds to whoop on me. Again, as I look back on it, I realize that this is very much deserved. I almost burned the damn house down. I guess the unusual thing about this ass whooping is that it felt like a WWE. My dad kicks my ass and it seemed like he tagged my mom because he stopped to rest and it was my mom’s turn. She is a very tiny woman. 4 feet 8 inches of pure emotion and fire. The spiciest chili peppers in the world are usually the small ones. Anyways, she started kicking and stomping on me. I was like a rodent you find in the kitchen. There was screaming, crying, and much pain dished out. I thought after my mom was done, the ass whooping would be over but it wasn’t. My grandma came in and whooped on me, then my aunts and uncles double teamed me. I literally got initiated to this gang called my family. After this incident, I have always been hesitant to light anything on fire.
My family effectively figured out a way to deter any hopes of me becoming a pyromaniac.
