Friday, January 24, 2014

And I did..

Dance floors are usually made of hard wood and good ones are luxurious and clean. My parents owned a dance floor and I can distinctly remember what happened when my father was installing the remnants of the studio dance floor into our living room. Cause the house was going hard wood style.

He wanted me to help him, but I was for sure too young. It was just me and him. I know I hated helping him because I could never do anything right. He was installing hard wood.. It's a process, he gave me a hammer.. It wasn't what I had wanted, I must have been eleven at the time dancing on the concert part of the floor. When I hit in the face with it.

I think I knocked him out. He got hurt, I knocked him in the head with a hammer. It was bleeding and everything. I'm not sure if it served him right, but it was bound to happen.
I remember him sitting on the step next to this pile of hard wood. He was looking at me, his eyes looked desperate. He wanted me to drive with him to the hospital. I was like "fuck that" but he made me anyway. We drove together. It was a unique bonding moment.
He was fine, the doctors put a stitch in it or something. The hospital is where I got my fill of children's literature.

He wanted me to help him and I hit him in the head with a hammer. That's what I did to my dad, he finished the floor alone. I can't recall ever going back to that. But I can remember a birthday party that I had once.
I really had to go to the bathroom....

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