My family is really bad at celebrating stuff. We're pretty lax on the whole, "It's a day to give you gifts and treat you differently!" We're pretty much along the lines of "Hey Happy (fill in blank). Now MOVE".
I don't know why they would need to move, just the rush of emotions I guess.
I love it though. We're not very emotionally-showy, but it works. The best are family dinners. They're always really entertaining. Jamie Duke used to love coming over for dinner, because it was a two-in-one special. Dinner AND crazy antics. Dinner Theater, if you would. Comedy improv from the chopping block of New York City! Er whatever.
One year for Christmas, my sister gave my brother Chris a nurf gun. I already had two, so she didn't feel the need to feed the warrior in me, and Chris gave Michael a double edged sword that disconnects in the middle (turns out it is surprisingly durable, the 18 year old boys in my grade proved that to be true).
So one night, a couple days after Christmas, the whole family was home and around the table for a nice Woller-style dinner, which naturally means...those darn antics! There was a heated discussion about something or another, and before my mom could say her famous "you weren't raised in a barn" words, there was a clearly difined standoff around the kitchen table.
My gun pointed at Annie, Annie's gun (mine really) at Michael, Michael's disconnecting swords thrashing about (as his defense mechanism tends to do) around his head, and Chris' gun pointing towards me. A full-out battle to the death ensued right then and there.
Nurf bullets littered the plates full of steamed peas, pillberry rolls, and crock-pot chicken, the most famous meal in the Woller household. Welts appeared instantly on the rest of the siblings as Michael Phillip continued to flail all his limbs, as if he were some sort of beached octopus making the realization he was beached.
Casualties left and right as Ma and Pop failed to remove themselves from the line of. Those poor, helpless souls.
At one point during battle, Chris went as far as to dip his amunition into Ketchup, presenting a false look of blood. He then proceeded to shoot at Michael. The flailing boy ducked just in time, but there is still a stain on the basement door showing the puncture wound. The bullet just stuck to the door. It didn't budge.
In the end I think we all died a couple of times. But it was fun dying. Ya know the kind where we have to close each other's eyes?
I could go into more detail, but the whole point of this post is just that I'd like to thank my Padre for letting this all go down. For always laughing when the kids get really annoying, as we tend to do. Who knows. Maybe he secretly hates it and he's merely laughing to keep from crying. That's a thing right?
Ah well. Happiest Father's day to all. And if your father is not with you at the present moment, for whatever reason, or if you do not have a father, I still hope today was a wonderful day for all! All days should be like that, ya know, wonderful.
If it wasn't, here's a trailer for something that I'm utterly stoked for (maybe unhealthy, but who cares)
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