It was a hot July day and we were driving from indy to Columbus. I was stuck in the back seat of my stepdad's (although much more like a real Dad, he married my Mom when I was two) Escort with my little stepbrother Jeff. My Dad still doesn't like me to ride in the front seat because of the airbag. It sucks, I'm eleven years old and he still treats me like I'm a little kid. I don't know maybe its because I'm a little small for my age. He says its because there is no reason taking any chances when its not really nessicary. I think he is just being over protective.
I was bored as hell. there was nothing to look at other than one damm cornfield after another. I-70 has to be the most boring road ever built. Dad wouldn't even put on the radio. The air conditioner wasn't working. It was an awful car ride. I guess Jeff was bored too and Dad didn't seem like he was having a whole lot of fun either.
Anyways Jeff and I start arguing. Hell I don't know what we were arguing about. Jeff just has the ability to push my bottons. The worst part about it is that he does it with a sense of humor that adults think is cute, but which just pisses me off. He has raised being a pain in the ass to an art form, a bloody Piccaso of annoying. At least to me, to Dad he is a little angel (most of the time). I don't really think that it is because he is Dad's real son, except sometimes I do feel that way (you know what I mean). No other adults feel the same way about him. And I really must admit he is basicly a good kid and I do love him. I just hate that he seems to get away with stuff with his damm charming mischevious smile that I get into trouble for.
Dad yells back for both of us to cool it. We do... for about five minutes before Jeff starts in again. He is sort of reaching over and touching the back of my neck and stuff, putting his feet over on my side of the car. I try complaining to Dad but he just doesn't want to hear about it and tells us again, this time a little more empahtically to settle down. Well that works for about another five minutes. Then he starts in again. This time I push him away and use a few choice words. I manage to avoid using any of the absolutely forbidden words, the ones that are in Dad's words, "requests for an Ivory lunch" but use close substitutes. Its becoming clear that Dad is getting more and more anoyed at both of us, especially me. Just annoyed though, not really pissed. Basically Dad is not a guy with a real short temper. He has a pretty long fuse, but it is attached to a pretty big bomb. Anyways, we were using up more than a little of it.
Dad noticed that we were getting low on gas and figured that it would be a good time to eat some lunch and stretch our legs. Maybe he figured that after a break we would settle down. Well we stop at this Stuckeys with an attached DQ. That was cool with me. I figured after lunch maybe I could buy some of the candy there, or maybe he would even get one of those pecan logs (I like them a lot, and so does Mom). Dad's also a sucker for the kind of junk they sell at Stuckeys. We start to brose about a little in the store, just stretching our legs, before we get lunch, but Dad says lets sit down and eat first and then we could buy something afterwards if we really wanted to. Hell I still had ten bucks in my pocket, that was cool with me.
We get lunch and set it down on the table and Dad gets up to go get some napkins. While he has his back turned, I accedently spilled my Pop...right on to Jeff's lap. Dad comes back and the fuse has burned all the way down. He doesn't belive me for a minute that I didn't mean to do it. Jeff certianly isn't leaping to my defense, he sees the opening and plays it for all its worth, insisting that I did it on purpose. Dad believes him because
A: Dad has a tendency to believe him (I guess it is a few of the fibs I have told in my life coming back to haunt me) and
B: My choice words in the car carried an implied threat that I would get Jeff later. Dad heard it and thought I was just being true to my word.
As I said, when that long fuse burns down, watch out. Dad grabbed my by the ear and practically lifted me out of my seat by it. He marched me into the Stuckeys part of the store. There on display was something I hadn't noticed before. On two pegs sticking out from the wall were paddles. On one peg there were about a dozen about 14" long in a dark wood finish that said "Husband Trainer" next to them were two identical paddles which said "Attitude Adjuster". I guess you could tell which model was more popular. Dad handed one of the "AA" models to me and told me to go buy it. I looked at him like he was crazy. I have to spend my own money to buy a paddle? I knew enough not to say anything but Dad got even more pissed just at the way I looked at him. Everyone in the resturant and the store had to know what was going on.
I brought it up to the counter and this 40 something lady at the cash register asked me "why is someone your age buying something like this?"
I didn't say a thing, I just blushed. That just pissed Dad off more. "Tell her Tommy, tell her all about it, and be polite"
"I'm sort of in trouble" I mumbled.
"Louder, and be more spicific young man. Tell her why you want the paddle"
Well I really was in no position to tell her that I rteally didn't want to be spending what little money I had on a paddle so I could get my butt beat.
Got to go, to be continued: