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Printed from https://writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1715270-The-American-Dream
Rated: 13+ · Other · Cultural · #1715270
A picture of Post WWII American life, with a slight twist.
Bradley Douglas was a typical suburban family man. He worked hard in the automobile factory, he provided for his wife and children; he even made sure his lawn was cut every Sunday morning before church. In 1950, he married his wife Susannah and shortly after, his first child was born. Vera, his daughter, was the love of his life, next to his wife of course, and there was absolutely nothing he wouldn’t do for her. In 1952, his son James was born. Nothing meant more to Bradley than his family. He did anything and everything he could to keep them safe. During these early years, they lived in an apartment in downtown Detroit. Due to Bradley’s constant paranoia regarding the Jewish, Communists and the Blacks dominating the area, he moved his family to a suburb.
“The American Dream”. In Bradley’s mind, he was living just that. He owned a house, a new Fairlane, and had a wonderful family. There were no more threats to his family. To the Douglas household, life was good. One beautiful, sunny afternoon, while driving home from the automobile factory, Bradley clicked on the radio. He caught the tail end of the everyday announcement. “…and remember, folks. Anyone who is not indoors after dark is fair game”. Ever since the war, things had been different for the world, but the Douglas family, as well as the rest of the world, kept living their happy lives.
Almost as if to emphasize how beautiful the day was, Bradley’s favorite song came on the radio. “The sun is shining, oh happy day-ay” came the Lawrence Welk song. The song always brought a smile to his face. “No more troubles, and no skies are gray-ay”. Nightfall was the last thing on anyone’s mind on such a lovely day as this. Bradley pulled into his driveway just as the song was ending. James was playing in the front yard with Vera, and Susannah was sitting up to greet her husband.
Bradley got out of the car, adjusted the part in his jet black hair, and hugged his beautiful wife. Her blouse was pink and had a small flour stain on it. Her hair was in the typical “beehive” fashion, and though a faint breeze was blowing, her hair did not budge. Bradley kissed her deeply, then looked over at his children in admiration. James was playing, wearing his favorite Davey Crockett hat and shooting “Injuns” with his toy gun. Vera was quietly brushing her Barbie’s hair for the tenth time. Both children noticed their father’s loving glance and came running to receive their hugs from him. James dropped his toy six-shooter as he ran as fast as he could toward Bradley, while Vera skipped along at a slower pace. “Daddy!” they both cried in unison. James ran headlong into his father’s leg and proceeded to envelop it in a death grip. Vera locked onto the free leg and looked up at her father.
“We missed you so much today, Daddy. Mom made pie today. May we have some after dinner?” Bradley always found it difficult to resist his children, especially Vera. If she did not get her way, she would give him a sad puppy look and Bradley’s heart would melt instantly.
“Of course, Darling,” he replied. He looked at James, who still had not released his leg. “Are you going to hold me prisoner here all day, cowboy? Or should we go inside and get washed up?” he asked his son.
James finally looked up at his father, grinning ear to ear. “Michael from next door said that his daddy was better than my daddy. I told him he was wrong, Dad. I really did, but he wouldn’t believe me,” James paused and the grin slowly disappeared. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I had to punch his lights out. He can’t just go around telling people lies like that. It’s not very nice”.
Bradley tried his best to stifle the laughter that was fighting to come out. He put on his sternest face and pretended to be very upset. “Now, James, what have I told you about hitting people?”
“That we do not do that,” James replied, tears in his eyes.
“That’s correct,” Bradley said, the sternness slowly fading from his voice. “Tomorrow afternoon, we will go to his house so that you may apologize to him, ok? But I am happy that you think I’m the best Daddy ever. Let’s go in for dinner”.
James gave his father another hug and ran inside. Vera, skipping along, followed her younger brother. Susannah grabbed Bradley again, kissed his cheek, and followed after the children. Bradley stood on the grass a moment longer, taking in the view of his neighborhood. Everything was perfect, from the grass in the yards, the perfectly trimmed hedges and white picket fences to the paint on the houses. “Nothing can be more perfect than this,” he thought to his self. He turned to head in and looked up at the clear blue sky. Not a single cloud, not so much as a small blemish in the sky. The sun was low in the sky, signaling the coming end of the afternoon. Bradley headed to the door, hungry for food and more love from his family. Just as he shut the front door, the black P.A. truck came idling by, blaring its evening message.
“Remember, everyone, that after dark, exit your homes at your own risk. They are not discriminatory whatsoever…” The message faded as the truck rounded the corner at the end of the block. Those that were outside quickly finished what they were doing and headed into their homes.
The Douglas family enjoyed their evening meal, and as Susannah and the children were clearing the table, Bradley walked to the open kitchen window and brought in the warm apple pie that had been cooling on the windowsill. He latched the window, took the pie to the table, then went and double checked all of the locks. This had become the nightly ritual since the end of the War, and forgetting a single lock could be dangerous. Bradley was careful, as he always would be. He walked to the record player, put on his favorite record, and the family sat down to pie while listening to the crooning of “Oh Happy Day”.

“The sun is shining', oh, happy day-ay. No more troubles and no skies are gray-ay. Ever since you said those words to me, Doo-doom, dah-doo-dad-doo-dah-doo-doo” played inside, while outside the zombie hordes began their nightly hunt for anyone unfortunate enough to be outside.
© Copyright 2010 Jared Lord (nekrataal0 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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