Daddy Is In A Very Very Very Bad Mood

I am driving to daddy's house

distracted by the ripeness of the clouds at sundown

they are a burnished peach with silvery tinges, framed by bruised eggplant

Stevo is on the phone telling me that all the

women at his meeting look like dogs

I am telling him for all he knows he could one day fall in love with

a dog

"Something smells good!" I chant, walking in the front door

and heading kitchen-ways

"Do you need any help Daddy?" I ask cheerily

Daddy turns, glowers. "NO."

Gruff, very gruff.

"And I suggest you stay out of the way."

I need no further prompting.

I take Percy to the dining table.

Brendon sits next to me.

"Boy, Daddy's horribly grumpy Brendon, do you know why?"

"Well, Aja..", he says, 6-yr old back ramrod straight

speaking the Queen's English with such perfect eloquence and carriage

that it commands my full and complete attention.

He does this at 6.

"Well Aja, Daddy is very very cross because

when no one was looking,

Sean turned the temperature on the deep-fryer

way up to 300 degrees centigrade."

"Oh no, and then what happened Brendon?"

"And then, the whole house filled up with smoke,

but nobody bothered to check why."

"Oh no, and then what happened Brendon?"

"And then, Daddy found out and caned Sean with the rottan."

"Oh no."

Peeking from between the railings at the very top of the

curved staircase, Sean is smiling his

cheeky smile, beckoning to me.

Evidently, Daddy didn't cane him hard enough.

I'm now blogging from Brendon's computer

because Daddy just snarled when I asked him for the network key

so that I could blog from Percy

so I cannot share pictures.

So I'm blogging this because I am not welcome in the kitchen

where I most want to be.

I wonder if we will be having dinner after all.

I hope so, it's supposed to be Fish & Chips

made with the barracuda that Daddy must have speared the weekend past.