Living on your own always sounds nice until you actually do. Sure during the day you’re sitting on the couch in your undies eating peanut butter with a spoon, but then night hits and there’s no daddy there to take on the robbers and psycho killers for you.
Luckily, I’m used to facing the horrors of the night on my own. My dad was a lazy butt. As a kid I’d run to his room at night in fear of the new monster wanting to eat me and he’d tell me to go sleep in the spare room. So naturally, when I heard a weird noise coming from outside I was fully composed and walked calmly to the door.
“Oh My Gosh what in the world was that! Dad! Dad! Dad! Help me!”
Knowing full well that my dad, who wouldn’t walk five meters to scare away the monsters for his 6 year old daughter, was not going drive an hour and a half to save his 18 year old one, I still called him.
“Dad, there’s something outside! It’s making a horrible yowling noise, like a rat being drowned in a pickle jar.”
That’s when my dad hung up. It was then that I realised I really was on my own. So bravely I walked towards the door, armed with the remote and opened it.
“Meow”
It was a cat…
taram2015 