When got back home it was four in the morning. My father was awake. He is usually never awake. He sat on the table, and stared. His fingers were knotted together. "Sit" He orders. Crap, he wanted to talk. I know I'm not supposed to be out late and all but he's never been stupid enough to believe I'd actually listen!
I groaned, and then sat. "Do you realize the situations and scenarios that you could very well have been victim to?" I stared. God this is boring. Couldn't he just go away, and live in parliament house. "You could have been killed!" He looked at me, a twinge of affection in his eyes. "You could have been hurt, my son, do you know what that would do to me?" This, I did not expect. He had never showed the slightest sign of affection for me, and was now....well.....wow! I couldn't help but feel happy. I felt embarrassed, and glad, until....he ruined it. "Do you realize what you would have done to my station as a minister, if they found you drunk on the street?!? So close to elections son, I would have been massacred! Think of your father once in awhile!"
The rage built up inside. I should have guessed. Parliament house, that’s all he ever cares about. Why didn't he marry the damn parliament house! He should just pass a freaking bill to allow him to marry inanimate objects! I bet with some damn money, and with his crew of bastard Yes Men, it would be done in a second!
I got up from my seat. I refused to hear any more of this shit.
"I haven't finished." I didn't bother turning around. I heard him stand, his footsteps fast and heavy behind me, "I said....I HAVEN'T FINISHED DAMN IT!! He grabbed me by the arm, and whirled me around. His eyes like fire bore into me. A sharp backhanded rap across the face followed. I was more or less out of words. I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry so hard. But I wouldn't. I was not week, I’ll never show this ass hole any sign of weakness....I had a better plan in mind. "You will learn respect!" He spat his words at me. He let go of my wrist and looked upon me, with his cold and shadowy eyes. "I have enrolled you into Birthwick's Military Acadamy.Its one of the best boarding homes in the country. You leave next week."
He walked away, but stopped half way through the corridor. He looked at me, "You will go. And you will come back a more decent young man." Then he just walked away into his bed room, slammed the door behind it. I was amazed by his frankness, but still, I couldn’t help but smile. I had a plan in mind, and it did not involve Birthwicks. All I needed was a haversack, a weeks’ worth of food, a bunch of money, and.....well.....for me to bruise myself up...strangely enough. It was a plan to destroy my father's name forever, to destroy his Campaign. Here’s six simple steps to destroy your father's election campaign.-
-1) Run far away with bank loads of money.
-2) Tip off media that you have run a way, (use a disguise duh!)
-3) Get a job at a rowdy bar.
- 4) Get beat up a lot.
-5) Allow the cops to find you once your completely battered up.
- 6) Blame daddy for child abuse.
Even if they find out that my dad does not abuse me, they will see this as a desperate cry for attention, thus being equally bad. I don't think anyone in their right mind would think a son, would want to destroy his father's political career. Well, then again, no one in their right mind would ever try too. But hey, who said I was sane?