HOLE IN THE WALL
As I had said earlier I was a terrible teenager but I guess it started before my teenager years. When I was younger, I can’t remember exactly how old I was but as always I was in trouble. I was sent to my room and told to stay there until further notice. I threw one of my usual fits, kicking, screaming, throwing things and yelling. I figured if I was in solitaire confinement I would do the time but everyone was going to hear about how displeased I was with it. As I yelled every bad word I knew and threw books against the back of my bedroom door I felt like my point of being unhappy about being in my room wasn’t getting across to my family. ( I don’t know why I was so upset about being sent to my room, I had a computer, a tv with cable, every Disney movie known to man at the time.)
|Crazy ass teenager... Halloween!|
Trying to drive the point home about being mad and angry I thought kicking the wall would make a loud bang and drive them as mad as I was. So I started kicking, and it was working. It made a loud bang over and over again I kept kicking even though it was starting to hurt my bare foot. I didn’t care if my foot was going to fall I was going to keep kicking. Over and over again until…
My foot went straight though the wall. I stopped and looked at the huge hole terrified that I was never going to be released from my bedroom cell when they see what I had done. I stood still like a statue and stared at the hole thinking of my options. Jump out my bedroom window and keep running? Plug the hole with a shirt and paint it the wall colour? Sit in front of the hole for the rest of my life? Pay for a repair man with my piggy bank money?
Realizing I was screwed and crying hysterically I stood staring at the hole in the wall that would undoubtedly put an end to my short life. My parents must have known something was wrong when all the noise coming from my bedroom had stopped suddenly. The gold handle on my bedroom door started opening and before I knew it my dad was standing in my room right in front of me. I started backing up against the opposite wall behind me still crying hysterically and now hyperventilating. My dad stood in the same spot staring at me and asking me what was wrong. I couldn’t speak I could hardly breath. After my father repeatedly asking me what was wrong I tried to explain what I had done but all that would come out in between sobs was “Ahhaaa haha ahhh haha” It was me laughing nervously between cries and hyperventilating.
Finally my dad started laughing probably because I was a total basket case by that time. Finally I looked down and was staring at the large hole I had kicked in the wall. My dad still wasn’t getting the hint so I raised my arm, made a first and pointed at the hole holding my breath waiting for the death sentience to be handed down to me. After what felt like forever my dad looked at the hole then back at me and again to the hole. My dad laughed looking at me and told me “That’s what your freaking out about? Don’t worry about it I’ll fix it tomorrow.” He turned to walk away and I let out a deep sigh of relief. I couldn’t believe I wasn’t dead. My dad had been so cool about it, to this day I’m still not sure why he didn’t react more maybe it was because the hole wasn’t that big of a deal. It was something my dad was capable of fixing no problem. Maybe it was because he wanted to leave the room so he could laugh even more. I like to think that it was because in those few minutes from when I created the hole until my dad walked out of my room was a big enough punishment on it’s own. Either way I’ll always remember that day and how my surprised I was by how my dad handled the situation.