My dad was angry a lot when we were growing up. He was always on edge
and yelling all the time unless there was someone over and then all
of the sudden he was sweet like candy. One cold morning we were
getting ready for school, eating breakfast and such and we hear a
loud crash from the driveway. We looked out into the pre-dawn murk to
see my dad behind his truck kicking the once erect basketball
standard. We were a little mad at him because that was a pretty fun
piece of recreation equipment and he had wrecked it but in a switch
only M. Night Shamalan could have written he ran over and started
yelling at us for not being outside in the pre-light standing behind
him and giving him backing directions as we had never done in the
history of the world. He called us names and said he couldn't do
everything himself and he drove off cussing. It was so surreal to be
yelled at for him running over the hoop that we were honestly a
little shocked for a while. Then we started mocking him as was our
coping mechanism 100% of the time.
