James smirked to himself, as he spotted his layabout dad slumped on the sofa. He was snoring, with the TV on. It showed an infomercial with that woman he liked so much...
A loose collection of emptied cans lay scattered nearby. The jobs he'd applied for, were limited, and faithless. With more attention paid to the sports page, with the number of his usual betting shop outlined. It was a shake of his head, a resigned sadness, almost tinged with pity. He could be so useless as a father... terrible example of a man, for any son.
As his fingers curled into a fist, he felt the pen in his hand. Knew he no longer had to endure that ... disappointment as a father.
"Perhaps, he'll make a better woman." James felt a little sick, hoping she didn't have the same weaknesses and failures as a mother. Sweetening the pot, he allowed his father to subconsciously tailor the woman he'd become...
- - - - -
My father is absent, and reformed as my mother.
He wrote the words with trembling hands...
She'll be motivated, a great role model, and look like the type of woman that he wanted in his life.
He angrily stabbed the full-stop on the end of the sentence, piercing the paper in his anger.
His lust after Charlene forgotten in his rage, he wanted to see this rebirth. There was a blinding flash from the sofa, and James shielded his eyes from the blinding flare of light. Even as he blinked the tears from his eyes, he could see the difference around his home. His blurry vision could make out the finer quality furniture, the greater care taken. The little knocks and bashes no longer present. The shape resting on the sofa was stretching and waking.
The empty beer cans now absent. James blinked away the tears, and wiped his vision clear. To see....
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