Post by goodburn on May 11, 2012 23:53:34 GMT -4
Through Fathers Eyes
My son was once as innocent as anyone could ever be. This is to say, he was also as young as anyone could ever be. Kyle Goodburn was born, and like each of us do, made the mistake of growing up too fast. We all grow too fast that our parents do not ever have enough time to teach everything that is right or wrong. Maybe that is where I went wrong with Kyle.
Being his father I thought I deserved the Father of the Year Award because I was able to teach him chess and play a game with him each night, starting at the age of six, ending at the age of fourteen, for reasons that will be later revealed. The chess was an awful idea. I was under the impression that chess was purely a gentleman’s game, something happened during the generation where I stopped paying attention to the world around me. Kyle turned into a monster determined to win whenever he played chess with me. Something about the opportunity to out whit me in chess consumed him.
As Kyle grew up, he began seeing more and more things has a chess game. I could tell because I could see his attitude change as challenges presented themselves. He became a monster around every turn. I was no longer his opponent, I was a spectator. After our last game, I always knew who would win out at the end.
His disputes with teachers, fights with girlfriends, run in’s with our neighbors even, he won them all. I must admit, it was entertaining to see how every dispute turned out, you might even say I was proud of him. Scratch that, it wasn’t a might, it was a fact. What father wouldn’t want to see his son succeed at the challenges life presented him? Although, I was no exception to the fact that my son won every battle, he always got his way. I lost all control over my son one late evening during our traditional chess game, in which before that, I won every game against him. One night, everything changed.
We had our simple way of playing. No timers, no calling out the names of our pieces to the square they were going. To us, the Knight was known as the horse, the King was of course, the dad, the Queen, of course, was mom. Each pawn was the baby. This was our last game, I’m sure Kyle remembers it well. I probably remember it more than he does. He always found our chess games were perfect for just chit chat, I didn’t mind at all. Now that I think about it, that was probably just his way to try and distract me.
“I know this is out of the blue,” Kyle said to me, “But when did you realize that all the other kids in high school smell except for you?”
Kyle’s comment had its desired effect, seeing as in my next move, I lost my horse, or Knight.
“Why?” I asked him, “Are you finding that the girls in your school are flocking to you, and not the smelly boys?”
“No,” Kyle replied, “They don’t flock to me, instead they give me blow jobs in the bathroom.”
I pause for a moment, and think back to my young days, and realize that when I was fourteen, I said “blow jobs” all the time. Although, I don’t remember receiving them. My mind is still wheeling though, and I make another stupid move on the board which costs me a pawn that was almost to the other side of the board. I start thinking some more, I have a huge smirk on my face since I’m telling myself that it’s just a joke. I try to come up with something just as clever.
“Well good,” I say, “I’m glad I’m not the only one that is getting those around here.”
My comment doesn’t phase Kyle what-so-ever. Instead he makes a move that leaves my mom, or Queen trapped for the time being.
“Is that so?” Kyle fires back, “Because she sure spends a lot of time away from here… Away from you…”
Kyle’s comments seem to be getting more and more personal. Which is leaving my side of the chess board more and more in disorder. I have a feeling of what he may be trying to do, but every time I think I can catch up to his comments that shock me, he goes up another level.
“In fact,” he continues, “I see a stark connection between the more she is out, the longer you take in the shower… Are you crying in there, or is something else leaking?”
That last comment forces me to lose my queen for good. As you can guess, this was our last game for a reason. Never in our previous games did Kyle use the, “Make Dad uncomfortable” tactic to win a chess game. Nor would he get the opportunity. It’s not like the accusations he said were true neither. My wife is home for most of the day, and my showers take twenty minutes at the most. But the comments were just out of left field, and were packing quite a punch.
Why have I shared this story with you? Well, Kyle Goodburn is a grown male, and we had another tradition, Wrestling. Every week Kyle and I would sit down and watch our favorite wrestling programming. Kyle has taken that further. Wrestling is his chess game now. He is coming to Asylum, and he has more than just weird comments to throw his opponents off guard. He is coming with a War.
Being his father I thought I deserved the Father of the Year Award because I was able to teach him chess and play a game with him each night, starting at the age of six, ending at the age of fourteen, for reasons that will be later revealed. The chess was an awful idea. I was under the impression that chess was purely a gentleman’s game, something happened during the generation where I stopped paying attention to the world around me. Kyle turned into a monster determined to win whenever he played chess with me. Something about the opportunity to out whit me in chess consumed him.
As Kyle grew up, he began seeing more and more things has a chess game. I could tell because I could see his attitude change as challenges presented themselves. He became a monster around every turn. I was no longer his opponent, I was a spectator. After our last game, I always knew who would win out at the end.
His disputes with teachers, fights with girlfriends, run in’s with our neighbors even, he won them all. I must admit, it was entertaining to see how every dispute turned out, you might even say I was proud of him. Scratch that, it wasn’t a might, it was a fact. What father wouldn’t want to see his son succeed at the challenges life presented him? Although, I was no exception to the fact that my son won every battle, he always got his way. I lost all control over my son one late evening during our traditional chess game, in which before that, I won every game against him. One night, everything changed.
We had our simple way of playing. No timers, no calling out the names of our pieces to the square they were going. To us, the Knight was known as the horse, the King was of course, the dad, the Queen, of course, was mom. Each pawn was the baby. This was our last game, I’m sure Kyle remembers it well. I probably remember it more than he does. He always found our chess games were perfect for just chit chat, I didn’t mind at all. Now that I think about it, that was probably just his way to try and distract me.
“I know this is out of the blue,” Kyle said to me, “But when did you realize that all the other kids in high school smell except for you?”
Kyle’s comment had its desired effect, seeing as in my next move, I lost my horse, or Knight.
“Why?” I asked him, “Are you finding that the girls in your school are flocking to you, and not the smelly boys?”
“No,” Kyle replied, “They don’t flock to me, instead they give me blow jobs in the bathroom.”
I pause for a moment, and think back to my young days, and realize that when I was fourteen, I said “blow jobs” all the time. Although, I don’t remember receiving them. My mind is still wheeling though, and I make another stupid move on the board which costs me a pawn that was almost to the other side of the board. I start thinking some more, I have a huge smirk on my face since I’m telling myself that it’s just a joke. I try to come up with something just as clever.
“Well good,” I say, “I’m glad I’m not the only one that is getting those around here.”
My comment doesn’t phase Kyle what-so-ever. Instead he makes a move that leaves my mom, or Queen trapped for the time being.
“Is that so?” Kyle fires back, “Because she sure spends a lot of time away from here… Away from you…”
Kyle’s comments seem to be getting more and more personal. Which is leaving my side of the chess board more and more in disorder. I have a feeling of what he may be trying to do, but every time I think I can catch up to his comments that shock me, he goes up another level.
“In fact,” he continues, “I see a stark connection between the more she is out, the longer you take in the shower… Are you crying in there, or is something else leaking?”
That last comment forces me to lose my queen for good. As you can guess, this was our last game for a reason. Never in our previous games did Kyle use the, “Make Dad uncomfortable” tactic to win a chess game. Nor would he get the opportunity. It’s not like the accusations he said were true neither. My wife is home for most of the day, and my showers take twenty minutes at the most. But the comments were just out of left field, and were packing quite a punch.
Why have I shared this story with you? Well, Kyle Goodburn is a grown male, and we had another tradition, Wrestling. Every week Kyle and I would sit down and watch our favorite wrestling programming. Kyle has taken that further. Wrestling is his chess game now. He is coming to Asylum, and he has more than just weird comments to throw his opponents off guard. He is coming with a War.
