i own a failure of a son




gina tron



“I would like to thank you for destroying my social abilities. Now I can finally make my father proud and become an introverted architect instead of an actor. IT WAS MY DREAM!" The pen that wrote these influential words was sullenly dropped onto a desk. It thereafter rolled and fell to the floor. 33 year old Eggolio stopped writing his thank you note to his fifth grade teacher and began sobbing, and then loudly wailing.

His father heard the familiar sound from upstairs and ran his overweight body down the wooden stairs. His white undershirt tucked into his pants so tight, that it highlighted the prominent egg shaped gene that the family was most proud of. “SON!!! WAIT! I’M ON MY WAY!”

Eggolio’s father opened the door so heroically, it would have made Christopher Columbus himself crumble to the ground with fear. He looked at his son, and how he had grown nicely into the egg shaped form that he was originally named after. He grabbed Eggolio’s soft round head. Eggolio looked up at his father, with his wet eyes and let out a slight smile. His father kissed one of his egg shaped tears.

“Daddy, Mrs. Sanborn was mean to me.”

“It’s OK, son. She is with your mother now, where all soul destroyers belong: In the basement of Uncle Jimmy‘s house.”

“No dad,” Eggolio whined. “It’s not enough!!” He started pounding his fist onto the desk. “IT WILL NEVER BE ENOUGH!”

“Mrs. Sanborn wasn’t right about much, but she sure was on point in regards to the architect comment.”

“Father…”

“DO YOU THINK YOU ARE BETTER THAN THE AVERAGE ARCHITECT?”

“No father…”

“GOOD. BECAUSE YOURE NOT. THE BEST YOU WILL EVER BE IS AN ARCHITECT’S ASSISTANT.”

Eggolio began his wailing again.

Eggolio’s father shook his head and slowly closed the door to his failure of a son’s basement room.

He climbed the stairs, feeling mildly out of breath. If only he could replace his arteries with pride. “I own a failure of a son.” He finally realized this fact as he stated it aloud. “And once you own something it’s yours forever, even…” He began sobbing himself……”even”… “even.” He started punching the walls that blanketed the stairs, the walls of misery that he resided in.

“EVEN” *PUNCH* “WHEN *PUNCH* YOU *PUNCH* GET *PUNCH* RID *PUNCH* OF *PUNCH* IT

Eggolio waddled up the stairs, “Daddy, what’s wrong?”

His father began punching his son with such rage, that even a fiery bull would be forced to turn away with disgust. Who could blame him? Yes, we all feel pity for the pathetic Eggolio, but just put yourself in his father’s shameful shoes. When you realize what a monstrosity you created, a failure monster that is now yours to keep, what can you do but try to destroy it? Anyone else would do the same. I know I would.

@_ginatron

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