The Sour side of Bittersweet

I don't know why, but somehow I tend to offend people more often than I'd like. I mean, yeah, there are times when I take sadistic pleasure in getting people pissed off, but what can I say? I'm a hard guy to like. Strangely enough, there are also times when I really want to tell people to fuck off and as an afternote, tell them to bring a box of candy when they're not mad anymore. This is the most difficult situation to manage. It's like that cut at the roof of your mouth that would heal only if you stopped tonguing it. But you can't! But one of the principles I live my life by is that a good joke is worth any consequence. It's not surprising that this landed me in a lot of trouble while I was growing up, but when one starts to look on the funny side of a sound thrashing, and shout stuff like "Guess who's gonna pick your old age home!" or "My butt, YOU CRACKED MY BUTT!", it isn't really normal, is it? I guess saying something funny was the only way to escape a beating from my dad!

Somehow, denial always seemed the best recourse in times of trouble. There was the time I was supposed to be grounded, but had allegedly stolen out of the house and had,(allegedly) returned at midnight, smelling of alcohol and smoke! I could've sworn it was 11:30...Oh don't believe the drunk, right? No matter how hard I tried to explain to my mom that an eighteenth birthday is a once in a lifetime occasion, and no it wasn't the same person from whose eighteenth birthday party I'd been returning all year, she seemed adamant. Somehow my dad didn't seem too complacant about it either. So I found myself seated at the dining table, a parent on each side, an hour after midnight, listening to a banal lecture and the Beatles simultaneously. Ok, I admit I was a wee bit drunk.

It started with the familiar "We need to have a talk" that is accompanied by a threatning look my dad usually directs at me when he's angry. But the vodka seemed to dilute any possible trepidation I might have felt at that time.
(A long silence, the lull before the storm)
Me( reduely interrupting the doleful moment): Don't you hate that?
Dad( gearing up): What?
Me: Uncomfortable silences.
Mom( A sigh that could have been one of annoyance or relief): Kids these days -
Me: Yeah, they tend to turn eighteen a lot -
Dad: You need to learn how to talk to your parents!
Me: Didn't do a good job in the first few months after I was born, did you?
(Mom tries to apease dad as "Picture yourself in a boat on a river..." starts playing all over again.)
Mom: I am losing patience with you. Nowadays you don't focus on your studies, you go romping out with your friends every other day, god knows what you do at parties that last till midnight -
Me (cutting her short): Mom, they begin at midnight! Believe me, I come home early -
Mom (continuing, as moms are wont to do): - I don't know how many detentions you've had at school, I'm beginning to think Ms. Mukherjee was right!
Me: That Hoimonti bitch? Class eight geography bitch?
Mom: Well, I'll agree she was a bitch, but she did say 'tumi kharap shong e porbe'!
Me: Oh yes, Hoimonti, always the pious one, the fair, untaintable saint whose pure white judgement and words of wisdom have helped delinquents the world over, kneel down and repent-
Dad: Enough! Aren't you even listening to what your mother was saying? We've removed the computer from your room to get rid of al distractions!
Me (stunned, despite the alcohol): You did what-
Mom (having played this part of the argument several times in her head): We've decided that removing all your unnecessary means to waste time will help you focus on your -
Me (outraged): Decide?? How the fuck can you decide something like that??
Dad: Use that word one more time and I'll -
Me (painfully deep sigh):....Ok, I'll admit....Mom, dad, I've been slipping where my academics are concerned. I've been dodging classes and missing tuitions....Holt was probably right to give me those detentions. I guess...what I'm trying to say is that...I WANT MY DAMN COMPUTER BACK!!
Mom: You're not getting it back till you improve your physics marks! 60 out of 100 is just...abnormal!
Me: It's physics! Nobody gets marks in physics! Those marks are normal!
Mom: Fine...So what's the reason for these abnormally normal marks?
Me: Nothing. Look, they'll improve. Can I have my computer back?
Dad: First, tell me what exactly you do at these parties -
Me: Jello shots and wild sex. What else?
Dad (does a good job of apearing not to appreciate the humour): We, as your parents, need to know. You think we can't smell?
Me: Look, I don't drink or smoke. Other guys do it. I refrain.
(Track changes to "Yellow Submarine")
Mom: Who does it?
Me: Yeah, nice try!
Mom (changing the topic): Do you know what percentile Rintu scored in his FIITJEE exams?
Me: I'm so excited, I'm pissing in my pants! Quick, tell me!
Mom: 99 percentile!
Me: I'm sexually aroused!
Dad: Look, you probably have a lot of interests in your life right now. Intoxicants, girls - (looks at me questioningly)
Me: I've dealt with girls in my last post.
Mom: What?
Me: Err....I mean....nothing. Forget it.
(Music stops)
Roger: Man, I'm tired from all the singing.
Me: You were singing?
Dad: What?-
Roger: Yeah...You didn't know? I thought you needed a distraction from all this bullshit -
Me: You idiot!
Dad (going red in the face): Is there something you want to explain?
Me: Yes, I have bipolar disorder!
Dad (looks shocked): What??
Me: Yeah, there's this annoying voice in my head that keeps -
Dad: Oh thank god!
Me: WHAT?-
Dad: Err...I thought you had two...
Me: Eww! No!
(Roger laughs hysterically as mom and dad try to figure out what to make of the last remark. Strangely, the conversation draws to an end. I sing myself to sleep. "We all live in a yellow submarine, the yellow submarine, the yellow submarine." Or do I?)