My Son Is Not Human 2
Well. On Christmas eve there were presents in our house under the tree. I guess my wife bought them because there's no way I would spend gambling money on a dead tree and products that could contribute to his little attitude. My father back in the day would've beat me upside the head with a rock if I gave him the attitude my boy gives me. That's what my father did when I told him I got a lady pregnant when I was 20. He also said "What, you mean that whore from down the street?" It was funny in the end because it turned out he slept with her grandmother once (Before you get your conspiracies going, it wouldn't make any sense for her to be my mother because I'm 34 and they had an affair 36 years ago, so no, she's not my ma). Anyway, the Christmas tree was stocked. All these ornaments and junk.
There were tons of presents. They were sparkling in my eyes and shit. So I called my wife down and she said just go to bed and when we wake up we can watch our son open presents. She said three of them are for me. I stared at her (to look for any signs that she knew of our son's... differences. She got an attitude from me staring and she walked away. I went to bed, but I slept with one mental eye open. I feel that my mental eye has been open since the restaurant incident.
So in the morning I went up to my son's room and kicked the door to see I could catch him changing batteries or phoning the mothership. He was looking at the fish tank that his ma gave him. I don't see why anyone would want no stupid fish, just swimming around all day and they can't even sit.
"Son, it's time to open boxes,"
He got an attitude and said "Okay, I'll come down. I just want to see them swim a little." That sounded dumb and all. So I played it cool because I don't know what type of weaponry he has at his disposal. I came back with a pot and pan and banged them together right behind his head. One missed the other and hit him.
"Dad, stop being weird!" He shouted at me, getting another attitude.
"Me?" I was not being weird. I was having my mental eye open. My wife came up having an attitude, she said you got a dent on my good pancake pot.
My son told my wife that I hit him with a pan, which is just plain tomfoolery. She made me say sorry but I didn't mean it. I wonder if he can even tell that I don't mean it. I hear fishes and junk like that, dogs and shit, they don't understand English and such. Like a guinea pig or a parrot, they just repeat what someone said to them and they don't know what the hell they're talking about.
Anyway, I cleansed myself in the shower for thirty minutes and when I was all fresh and sparkly I went down to see my son opening the boxes. He showed me his new Tonka. I squinted and nodded. My wife handed me a coffee. I saw swirls and things that one with a closed mental eye may consider to be "marshmallows", I wouldn't trust anything.
"Who bought him all these presents and junk?" I asked my wife.
"There's no junk. And it was Santa.
That was the first I heard of anyone breaking and entering my house to give him presents. I always thought Santa was a myth, a joke, a trick. But he bought my son presents. I gape at my wife. She rolled her eyes, getting an attitude again. I wasn't sure if I knew what to believe. I dumped my "coffee" into the trash, where I found a strange drawing that my son made...
Credited to ConcernedPappy
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