Last Saturday, we drove to a different part of town for Sam’s soccer game. Per the coach’s instructions, we arrived a little early so the team could warm up beforehand. Apparently, they needed to work on important athletic skills like not screaming “Monkey nuts!” when the other team gets a goal. Or maybe it was passing, I’m not quite sure.
Anyway, getting there early meant we had to sit around and wait for another game to finish before we could get on the field. This was really unfortunate because there was a little girl named Megan playing in that game. And Megan had a dad.
“KICK IT, MEGAN! DON’T LET IT PASS YOU BY AGAIN! COME ON, WILL YOU MOVE IT?” he’d scream.
Then, just to make it all better:
This went on for 20 minutes. Uncoordinated Megan would run down the field tripping over her own feet while her dad screeched “helpful” advice to her in a voice that’s usually only heard on Arkansas pig farms.
“THAT’S IT, MEGAN! YOU’RE CLOSE TO IT NOW! OH, COME ON! STOP DAWDLING AND STOP BEING SO LAZY!”
Finally the game ended and poor Megan and her obnoxious dad left to go home where they probably spent the rest of the day yelling at the TV (dad) or filling out applications to spend the rest of their life in a cloistered convent in Newfoundland (Megan).
After they were gone, the rest of us started laughing about how Megan’s dad thought he could say whatever horrible thing he wanted to say if he just added “Sweetie” at the end.
“GET A GOAL OR YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO GO HUNGRY TONIGHT!” my husband yelled. “SWEETIE!”
“BLOCK THAT KICK OR I’M MAKING YOU SLEEP IN THE GARAGE ON TOP OF THE DOG POOP BAG!” said another parent. “HONEY CHILE!”
“RUN FASTER OR I’M PUTTING YOU OUT ON THE STREET AND THEN YOU’RE GOING TO HAVE TO STRIP FOR FOOD AND POSSIBLY DO A LITTLE TASTEFUL NUDE INTERNET MODELING UNTIL YOU DEVELOP A REALLY HORRIBLE METH ADDICTION AND ALL YOUR TEETH FALL OUT AND YOU GET GNARLY PIZZA SIZED PIMPLES ON YOUR ASS AND THEN YOU’LL PROBABLY FREEZE TO DEATH IN A WAL-MART MEAT LOCKER ALL ALONE EXCEPT FOR THE FROZEN RATS AND ILLEGAL BODY PARTS THE BUTCHER KEEPS THERE SO HE CAN MAKE A LITTLE EXTRA CASH ON THE SIDE TO SUPPORT HIS RAGING GAMBLING ADDICTION!” I added.
For some reason, that’s when the fun ended and people started scooting their chairs away from me. But at least now I know that the next time I lose my temper because the garbage man has left trash on our lawn, it’ll be okay.
As long as I say “darling” after I flip him off and call him a waste management jackass.