The Little People(pg. 1)

     I came home from St. Thomas School and was dead tired, and we got off the bus around 4:00 P.M. and into our happy and troubled home I went.
    "Hi, mom. What's for supper?" 
    "Chili, your favorite," my dearest mother said it the loveliest voice you ever heard.
    "Go change your clothes and check on your father please," she said with worry in her gentle voice.
     "Ok, can I have a cookie first?" I grabbed one from the dessert plate anticipating an already yes reply.
     " I guess so, now."
     I headed to my bedroom where I shared a room with two other brothers. I quickly came out of my clothes like an escape artist but the next stop or room I completely dreaded, it was checking on my drunk dad who I thank God was still passed out from his downed fifth bottle of whiskey that was on the nightstand table. So, back to the pleasant smelling kitchen, I went.
     "Is your father okay?" mom said in her kind and loving voice.
     "Yes, I think he's sleeping." 
     I then went into the living room and turned on the television but my sisters already commandeered the channel selection. My sisters like any sisters at that age were mean to a fault that they thought their brothers were subservient to their every whim and demand. They were watching The Brady Bunch and I wanted to watch The Rifle Man. Mom's rules were an hour for each sibling's choice, and mine was up the next hour. 
     I went into the kitchen and ask mom, "why does dad drink and pass out?"
     "He's sick and is in really bad health," she said in a comforting way.
     "Why don't he go to a hospital?" 
     "We can't afford one" 
     I left the kitchen and headed to my room where it was nice and quiet because it was raining outside, so I grabbed the cassette player that I got for Christmas and started to record myself for fun. My voice sounded so country and unrefined and no matter how I tried to disguise it just sounded like an ole yokel from Kentucky. 

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