The other day, while I was sleeping, my parents came to visit me; for some reason, they arrived late, around midnight or maybe even one. They hadn’t told me they were coming, but I still knew; I can always feel it when they’re coming; it’s the only time I’m happy and sad.
For some reason, they brought an industrial size box of Goldfish crackers. If a normal, grocery-store box holds three hundred or so crackers, then they must have given me four or five thousand little yellow fish. Obviously I was pleased; free food is free food and I have been hungry lately anyways. For all intents and purposes, it was a good visit and a good gift.
I put the Goldfish away in the cupboard and I laughed because the box hardly fit; it all seemed a little ridiculous. With the crackers carefully put away, I turned my attention to my family, where it had really been the whole time. I hugged my dad; I kissed my mom on the cheek.
We talked and lounged for a long while; whenever I see my parents, there is always lots to be said. My mom is worried about my health; my dad is concerned about my soul. But they don’t do all the talking; it’s more like a Socratic dialogue about the nature of suffering. Buddhists believe all life is suffering; they’re wrong, but they’re the closest to the truth.
In the middle of the night, during the conversation, my mom went to the bathroom. My dad I talked about the Lakers while she was gone; we talked about school when she got back. Later my dad used the restroom, so my mom and I talked about videogames; then we talked about school when he got back.
It was around this time that the entire situation went absurd; simply bizarre. My mom looked up, and spoke up, in a meaningful manner, “Eric, we need you to take care of the Goldfish…”
I was obviously confused, “The crackers?”
“Yes, the crackers.”
I sat down surprised; why were those fucking little fish so important?
So I asked, “Mom, why are those fucking little fish so important?” And she rattled off an answer while my dad sat behind her and looked somber, but still agreed with her. I wish I remembered the answer, it would make life easier when they ask me about the Goldfish now; trust me, I still have to take care of the Goldfish now, and if I knew the truth, or any truth, then maybe I wouldn’t have to lie.
It’s all fucking absurd though; I don’t even like Goldfish.
For some reason, they brought an industrial size box of Goldfish crackers. If a normal, grocery-store box holds three hundred or so crackers, then they must have given me four or five thousand little yellow fish. Obviously I was pleased; free food is free food and I have been hungry lately anyways. For all intents and purposes, it was a good visit and a good gift.
I put the Goldfish away in the cupboard and I laughed because the box hardly fit; it all seemed a little ridiculous. With the crackers carefully put away, I turned my attention to my family, where it had really been the whole time. I hugged my dad; I kissed my mom on the cheek.
We talked and lounged for a long while; whenever I see my parents, there is always lots to be said. My mom is worried about my health; my dad is concerned about my soul. But they don’t do all the talking; it’s more like a Socratic dialogue about the nature of suffering. Buddhists believe all life is suffering; they’re wrong, but they’re the closest to the truth.
In the middle of the night, during the conversation, my mom went to the bathroom. My dad I talked about the Lakers while she was gone; we talked about school when she got back. Later my dad used the restroom, so my mom and I talked about videogames; then we talked about school when he got back.
It was around this time that the entire situation went absurd; simply bizarre. My mom looked up, and spoke up, in a meaningful manner, “Eric, we need you to take care of the Goldfish…”
I was obviously confused, “The crackers?”
“Yes, the crackers.”
I sat down surprised; why were those fucking little fish so important?
So I asked, “Mom, why are those fucking little fish so important?” And she rattled off an answer while my dad sat behind her and looked somber, but still agreed with her. I wish I remembered the answer, it would make life easier when they ask me about the Goldfish now; trust me, I still have to take care of the Goldfish now, and if I knew the truth, or any truth, then maybe I wouldn’t have to lie.
It’s all fucking absurd though; I don’t even like Goldfish.
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