I slept with a knife under my pillow for a time.
The knife made me feel bigger than any fourteen year old man should feel with a knife.
The knife itself wasn’t that big. Probably not big enough to kill someone even if it went in all the way to the handle – unless you got a lucky eye shot or straight to the heart.
I measured the knife against my own side. Not even half way through me and I was a hellova lot thinner than him.
He and I both knew that when he got to raging he became a bull. A wild thick-headed bull that would gore anything in its path.
Excepting other bulls, of course.
For them, he stepped aside.
Not for us.
For us he threatened, cursed and smacked shit around.
The christmas dinner table overturned. Regularly. We expected it.
The yelling, howling and pleading. Don’t, don’t. Please don’t Gary.
But Gary did. He would. Anywhere. Anytime.
“Okay? If that’s the way you want it… You eat the fucking soup!” and sploosh. You’d be eat-wearing Gary soup.
The last time he slammed mom’s head through the drywall was the last time I could let him do that.
No one else could save us. I was the oldest of five. It was up to me.
Not to kill but stop someone from being killed.
Mom, for sure and quite likely myself if I tried to stop him.
He’d choked me out before in the fucking Lazy Boy chair we all worked so hard to buy for him.
Fucking wrapped the chair up and everything…
I got to carefully sit in the gift-wrapped chair until he got home on account of putting the most money toward it.
Upon arrival, Captain Crazy flies into a drunken rage, starts grabbing mom and I hoist a verbal red flag to distract him.
Dude tosses her aside and lunges at me, clamping his big mitts around my neck.
My hands don’t even go all the way around his wrists I think as I black out.
Mom was crying, kids crying and moron gone when I wake up. I thought my neck was broken.
He didn’t kill me and I felt it only fair play that I try not to kill him. Only stop him.
That’s where mister pumpkin came in, I had to know if I could stab something. Had to know what it felt like.
Kinda went overboard though.
Mom thought I was mad.
But I wasn’t.
Just practicing stabbing Dad.
Thank you, friend.
angry-pumpkin image thanks to: LizzAubrey.com