Friday, January 20, 2017

Mistaken Identity

Hello All:
It's Friday which means that at some point this afternoon you will enter the door of your house and sigh a relief that the weekend is finally here. Wouldn't it be horrible if a situation like today's new story awaited you?
***
Have a great weekend!

Mistaken Identity

It was a Friday afternoon as George walked in to his house after a long day—and a long week—of work. His wife, Beth, sat on the sofa and watched TV while waiting for him. "Hi honey!" she greeted upon seeing George. "How was your day?"
"Oh it wasn't bad." answered George. "Not bad for Friday."
Just then, their four-year-old daughter, Angela rushed in the room. "Daddy!" she exclaimed. "You're home!" She ran up to Father and was immediately scooped up to be hugged.
"That's right; I'm home. So were you good today?"
"Yeah..." answered Angela
"Well I don't know..." teased Father "Maybe I should ask Mommy." George looked over to his wife, Beth, “What do you say Mommy? Was Angela good today?"
"Oh, yes. She was very good today."
"Well then I will let you pick where we go for dinner tonight." promised George to his daughter. "Where would you like to go?"
"McDonald's! excitedly answered Angela.y
Just then, the telephone rang. With Angela still in his arms, George walked over to the phone. "This is probably one of those annoying telemarketers." he griped before picking up the receiver. "Hello?"
A cold voice on the other end simply asked, "So what's up?"
"Excuse me?” answered George.
"Never mind that!" the cold voice warned. "What's going on? And where are you supposed to be?"
"Who is this?” challenged George.
"You know damned well who I am!" snapped the caller. "If you want to play that game, then this is your parole officer."
"Parole officer?" repeated George with a forced giggle. "I'm afraid you have the wrong number."
"No, I’m pretty sure I’ve got the right person. We are getting a signal located near 1634 Virginia Avenue. And this system is very accurate. And like I said, I'm pretty sure it's you I'm talking to.”
"Look!" began George. "There is clearly a mistake here, and it sounds like you are looking for someone on house arrest and that he supposed to be home. It sounds like his whereabouts have been traced near my home. I can reassure you that I am not your criminal. But now that I think of about it, I hope that he is not hiding in my house, somewhere."
The caller interrupted, "Well is this George Ludwig?"
George was taken aback and hesitated. "That is my name.”
"How ironic!" answered the caller in a sarcastic tone. "Tell you what: don't go anywhere. You stay right where you are, and I will have the police there very shortly to come get you."
George had no idea what to think. A parole officer was clearly looking for a convict who apparently violated the terms of his house arrest and was now being traced near George's home. Maybe he cut the bracelet and dumped it nearby. Or worse, maybe this convict was physically hiding in George's house. But so ironic; this convict had the same name as George. Whatever the explanation, it was probably best for the police to come and investigate. "Sure..." cautiously agreed George. "Let the police come here and get things clarified. I don't know why your convict is being traced to my address. Have them come quickly to investigate and make sure he is not hiding in my home somewhere."
"I'll do that!" reassured the caller in a nearly threatening tone. He obviously did not believe George's story. "And don't go anywhere!" he ordered before hanging up.
"What was that about?" asked Beth.
George explained as best as he understood. Apparently there was some confusion, thanks to a convict on house arrest who had violated the terms of his arrest. He was now being traced to their home. And in a bizarre twist of coincidence, George had the same name as the convict. "But don't worry." reassured George. "As soon as the police get here, they will see that I am not this person. Then they will make sure that our house is safe and that he is not hiding here. Maybe this person cut his bracelet and left it in the front lawn near the bushes.
"Are you going to jail, Daddy?" asked little Angela.
"No, Sweetie." answered George. "The police are just coming here to make sure we are okay."
***
Five minutes later there was a startling rap at the door. Police! Open up!”
George rushed over and opened the door. What faced him were four police officers with guns drawn and pointed at George.
"Get on the ground!" one of them ordered. "On the ground!"
Shocked and confused George did as ordered. The officers stormed into the house and immediately placed handcuffs over George who laid face first on the floor.
From the family room, little Angela started to cry and rushed over to Mommy for comfort and safety.
"What's going on?" nervously asked Beth.
"Ma'am, just sit tight." answered one of the officers.
Little Angela continued to cry while hugging her mother. What no one understood in that moment was that George had an unknown distant cousin with the same name who was on house arrest to finish a prison sentence for auto theft. He violated the terms of his house arrest and was now at 1634 Virginia Avenue. And as luck would have it, both men strongly resembled one another in appearance. Of course the police believed that the George in handcuffs was the wanted man.
Angela watched in horror as the police dragged her Daddy out the door to the police car. He was on his way to jail.

The End!

Wednesday, January 18, 2017

Read the Fine Print!

Hello All:
Over the Christmas holiday I received two bottles of what I would describe as jumbo bottles of wine. You’ve probably seen them on display at one time or another at an Italian restaurant. I'm not sure what their actual size was, but I would estimate them to be approximately a gallon each.
And so from the night of Christmas until the end of this weekend, I finished off both bottles of wine—resting some days in between. As I finished the final drop of wine from the second bottle on Sunday evening, I set my glass down and declared, “Both bottles have officially been finished off.”
How do I feel about this accomplishment?
I'm quite proud, actually. And it was nice to have nearly a nearly inexhaustible supply of wine throughout the holiday. I never had to worry about running out. But I am sad now that my holiday wine is gone. That's okay, this weekend I will be sure to run to the store and pick up more for myself.
***
Today's brand new short story is a reminder to always read the fine print before entering a deal with a stranger.
Read the Fine Print!
Bonnie and Lori have been best friends for years. They met shortly after college at their new jobs, and have been very close ever since. It isn't uncommon for them to meet after work on a Friday night at some lounge or restaurant for a few drinks and maybe dinner. This is what they did on a recent Friday night. They met at the upscale Tollway Nightclub located a few blocks away from where they work.
Usually Bonnie enjoys a few shots of liquor before dinner, followed by a few more glasses of wine after her meal. Tonight she enjoyed a red zinfandel—her third glass—after finishing off a large appetizer platter with her best, Lori. By now, she was extremely buzzed and nearly drunk. It was then that seemingly out of nowhere a young man approached the table where Bonnie and Lori enjoyed there after dinner drinks.
Bonnie was certainly uninhibited at that moment from all the alcohol that she had consumed. And she initially believed that the young man had come over to hit on her. So she was sure to invitingly smile at him with a hint of seduction.
But what was this?
It almost seemed like the young man was nothing more than a salesperson that was there to sell something. “Excuse me, ma'am…” begin the young man. “I was wondering if you would be interested in earning $100 this evening by participating in an experiment.”
“An experiment???” nearly shouted half-drunken Bonnie with excitement. It was followed by a giggle. “What sort of experiment do you have in mind with me?”
The young man remained professional while pointing out, “Well, by the looks of you I can see that you have had plenty to drink.”
Bonnie’s friend, Lori, interrupted by laughing out loud. “Oh yes, she has had plenty to drink!”
“Well that's good.” calmly answered the young man. “She would be perfect for the experiment.”
“And what's the experiment?” quickly asked Bonnie with a beaming smile.
“Well we would like to measure the chemical reaction of alcohol against chemicals processed in your body. It's a very easy process, and you won't have to worry about a thing. And let me remind you that you will be earning $100 for participating. Plus it only takes about 15 minutes. You have nothing to lose. What do you say; are you in?”
Bonnie shrugged her shoulders, “Sure, why not?”
“Very good!” exclaimed the young man. “Your friend can wait here while we go to the room where the experiment is set up.”
It was then that Bonnie felt a bit uneasy with the arrangement. She realized that in a nearly drunken state she was leaving her friend to go to a private and isolated place with the stranger. How safe would that be? But the young man wasn't bad looking at all. If he did try to take advantage of Bonnie, she would surely enjoy it. And it had been a long time since Bonnie got lucky—about six weeks since her last time.
And so Bonnie stepped away from the table and left her friend, Lori, alone. She followed the young man to the elevator and rode it down to the basement where she continued to follow him through a hallway, and into what appeared to be a workshop with small table at the center. “Please take a seat.” invited the young man. “By the way, my name is Bob.” He stuck out his hand in a motion to shake.
Bonnie accepted Bob’s handshake. “Nice to meet, Bob. I am Bonnie.”
Both sat down at the table. The young man, Bob, opened notebook and removed a sheet of paper. It was actually an agreement for Bonnie to sign so she could participate in the experiment. “This just spells out the details of how our experiment we will measure the chemical reactions in your body as you process alcohol.” explained Bob. “Like said before, in exchange you will receive $100 for participating.”
Bonnie was actually feeling quite drunk at that moment. She laughed hysterically before commenting; “Now I need to sign a contract with you?” Throwing all caution to the wind, she merely shrugged her shoulders; grabbed the pen located on the table, and boldly signed her name. It was then that a door opened from the opposite side of the room. In walked an older man who wore a lab coat with gloves. He pushed in front of him a cart with a glass tank seated on top. The older man looked to be like some sort of scientist.
“What's that?” asked Bonnie, now feeling a bit apprehensive with the new presence of the older man who had a glass tank.
“Try to relax…” reassured the older man. Everything will be ok.”
In her near-drunken state, Bonnie didn’t notice that the younger man, Bob, had stood up from his seat and walked to an area behind her. As the older man opened the lid on the tank, Bonnie grew all the more apprehensive. She was about to stand up and walk out. But then a pair of arms reached from behind and held Bonnie down. The arms were Bob’s, and they proceeded to wrap rope around her and the chair in means to tie her in place.
“What the hell are you doing? demanded Bonnie. “Let me go!” By now, she was firmly tied into the chair and there was no way to escape.
“Try not to worry.” urged Bob. “It looks like you are getting a bit nervous. The agreement you signed with us states that if needed, restraints will be used on you during the experiment.”
“What???? No!!!” cried out Bonnie. “Let me out of here!”
Bob walked around and sat down in the seat across from Bonnie. “But it was stated in the contract that you would not be released, no matter how much you begged. It’s written, here, in the fine print.” Bob held up the contract to show Bonnie.
“Unbelievable…” complained Bonnie. “This is not right.” She looked over to the older man who now picked up from the inside of the glass tank what appeared to be a rattlesnake. Bonnie wanted no part of a snake!  “No!!!” she screamed. “I don’t want to do something if it involves a snake!”
“Sorry…” rejected the older man wearing gloves with snake in hand. “A deal is a deal. You receive $100 for participating in our experiment. You signed a contract and there is no way out.” He positioned the rattlesnake by its neck and replaced its fangs against a milking glass. Immediately, venom poured in.
By now, Bonnie was turning ill at the sight of a mean rattlesnake dripping sickly venom into the glass. “What are you going to do with that?” she demanded.
The older man in lab coat did not answer. He simply set the rattlesnake back in the tank and quickly shut the lid. Then he removed a hypodermic needle from his side pocket and placed it in the venom at the bottom of the glass.
“Tell me you are not going to inject me with that!” cried Bonnie.
But the old man said not a word as the snake venom was drawn into the shot.
“Please stop!” pleaded Bonnie. “I don’t want to do this!”
“It will be okay…” reassured Bob. “And there’s no backing out. It's spelled out in the contract under the fine print. We will be injecting you with a small dose of snake venom to see how your body reacts under a near inebriated state.
The older man in lab coat approached Bonnie as she let out bloodcurdling screams. In horror she watched as the needle stuck into her arm.
Now what?
The End!



Wednesday, January 11, 2017

One Hundred Percent Alive and in the Flesh

Hello All:
Today's new story could be something one might expect from the 1960s TV show, One Step Beyond. You've seen it, I'm sure. It plays out unexplained phenomenon, much of it eerie.
That's what we have for you today.
One Hundred Percent Alive and in the Flesh
Bob drove home from work on a Thursday afternoon in his Dodge Durango with customized plate that read "IAMBOB". It's important to know this information as you will soon find out.
It takes Bob about 30 minutes to drive home from work, most of it highway driving. And on that Thursday, there wasn't anything unusual for his ride home from work. Traffic was fairly light, and there were no incidents along the shoulders of the road. Bob reached the exit ramp to the main road in town where he lived. And like most days, it didn't take long for him to reach the entryway of his subdivision, then to Cherry Street where his house is located. Here he pulled into his driveway. Again, it was a very uneventful and mostly boring ride home for Bob, and I'm sure the reader will agree at this point.
But what was this?
Bob was startled to see his wife, Susan, racing out of the house, sobbing, with arms extended outward. Bob quickly exited his vehicle and demanded, "What happened? Is everything okay?"
"The police said that you had been killed!" cried Bob's wife.
"What???" exclaimed Bob.
"Yes...!" continued Susan. "The State Police phoned just 15 minutes ago and said that you were in a car accident and didn't survive!"
"Oh my gosh; that's horrible!" returned Bob while quickly hugging his wife. "Well you can definitely see that it's not true. I am 100% alive and in the flesh. But it looks like the State Police made a terrible mistake. They were obviously supposed to call another family and notify them that whoever they mistook me for had been killed in the car crash."
By then Bob's children, Michael and Sara, rushed out of the house in excitement:
"Dad your home!"
"It's not true!"
"Yes!” quickly reassured Bob. "It was a terrible mistake that the police made. As you can see I am alive and well. But we need to get to the bottom of this. Once I get in the house I'm going to telephone the police and inform them of their terrible mistake. I feel sorry for the poor family that is going to receive such bad news tonight."
And so Bob, his wife, and kids went back into the house where Bob reached for the telephone located in the family room. He wasn't sure what number to call, so he simply pressed 911. As far as he was concerned, this was an emergency. Important information hadn't been given to the proper family.
"911, what's your emergency?" greeted the dispatcher.
"Yes...” began Bob. "...The police called about 15 minutes ago and informed my wife I had been killed in a car crash. But, obviously, that's not true because here I am talking to you."
"Oh no!” exclaimed the 911 operator. "I apologize for the mix-up. Do you know which police jurisdiction called?"
"It would have been the State Police." answered Bob.
"Okay, let me transfer your call to the State Police investigations department so that you can clarify everything."
"Thank you!"
And so Bob spent the next few minutes on the phone with the State Police investigations department as they attempted to establish which accident Bob had been wrongfully paired with. It was confusing for the police because they had a Bob White of 1422 Cherry Street on their most-recent record. Furthermore, they had just received and impounded a Dodge Durango with customized plate, "IAMBOB".
"But that's impossible!" insisted Bob. I am 100% alive and well, standing here and talking to you. And my Dodge Durango is parked out in the driveway without a scratch.”
"Yes I understand that." acknowledged the onsite investigations officer. But we need to get to the bottom of this. Perhaps you could come in with your wife and confirm that the body we have in the morgue does not belong to you, as well as the vehicle that was involved crash."
"I'd be more than happy to" answered Bob.
***
Twenty minutes later, Bob and his wife, Susan, arrived at the State Police facility in their jurisdiction. It's located right off the highway. They entered the main entrance and approached the front desk. "Hi, I need to speak with someone from the investigations department?" asked Bob.
Well once I buzz you through the main door, immediately turn left and it's your last door on the right."
Bob and Susan were buzzed in where they made an immediate left down the hallway to the investigations department. It was here where Bob was asked for his state driver's license which immediately alarmed the onsite officer. You see, only a few minutes ago he placed the exact, same driver's license in a file which had supposedly been taken from the person who was killed in the car crash. The officer gave Bob a queer look. "Is there a problem" Bob asked.
"Well, I guess just follow me into the back office." answered the officer. "We'll first visit the impounding garage.”
Bob and Susan were led some distance to the garage where they were horrified to see Bob's Dodge Durango with customized license plate that read, "IAMBOB" The vehicle was now a smashed, mangled-up heap of junk.
"Oh my goodness!” exclaimed Susan.
"What the...?" Bob added.
The officer then informed, "Sir, you are going to have to wait out here while your wife accompanies me in the morgue to identify the body. This is just proper procedure."
"Body???" nearly shouted Bob. "But I'm 100% alive and in the flesh."
"I understand that, Sir." answered the onsite officer. "Like I said, I am just following procedure.
Susan followed the officer into the morgue where a covered body lay on what looked to be an autopsy table. "I'm going to warn you...” began the officer.  "...this might be a bit gruesome."
"Okay, I will keep that in mind." answered Susan.
The officer pulled back the sheet from the body's head.
Susan was immediately startled. You see, it was definitely Bob's face with some cuts and bruising."I... I... I just don't understand..." she told the officer. "That is my husband lying on the table, but he's standing out there in the other room."
There was no logical explanation for the strange phenomenon that took place that Thursday afternoon. No, Bob was not a ghost; he was100% alive and in the flesh. But how could his body also be lying in the morgue? And how could his mangled up vehicle now be sitting in the impounding garage while—at the same time—it sat in the parking lot of the State Police facility without a ding or scratch?

The End!

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

Holiday Vacation

Hello All:
In some parts of the country, kids are still on their holiday vacation--or Christmas break as we traditionally call it in America. My kids are still home. As for me, I actually took a couple of weeks off towards the end of December and didn't return to work until the third of January. It was a very nice and much-deserved time off!
Not actually received as a Christmas present; I got a nice, new phone for myself over the holidays that includes the ability to take 360 VR images to be viewed on a VR headset when needed. I spent plenty of time in the woods during my vacation, visiting all my favorite places and taking 360 photos. I really had in mind to share these 360 photos with you on my blog, but Blogger doesn't have a tool for 360 viewing.
Oh, but there has to be something! Surely they have a widget that I can easily install so that readers like you can enjoy my VR worlds. I'll  have to look into it.
***
If you're kids are still home for the holidays, hopefully you don't put them through the torment that the main character, Daryl, had endure on his Christmas break. I'll let you read all about it in today's brand, new story.
Holiday Vacation
It was the day after Christmas about mid morning, just before lunch, as Daryl sat in the recreation room of his basement, playing with his new X-box. Daryl was a sophomore in high school and could be considered a very hard working kid. He takes all honors AP classes and works extremely hard to earn A's in all his classes. It isn't easy. It's a very stressful life for Daryl. In many cases he believes that he'll fall behind in his studies and earn a B in his class which is definitely what Daryl doesn't want. But he worked hard this past semester in school, and it was Christmas break; time for Daryl to relax, unwind, and catch his breath before returning to second semester after the New Year.
Really this was the first moment that Daryl had a chance to play with his X-box since unwrapping the gift on Christmas morning. You see, both he and his sister, Dawn, had to quickly unwrap their gifts on Christmas morning before going to church; after which the family immediately went to Grandmother's house to be with the family throughout the day. By the time Daryl returned home that night it was close to midnight. Oh he wanted to go into the recreation room at that time and hook up his X-box. But Father wouldn't have it. It was too late at night. Tomorrow was another day Daryl was very tired, anyway. He went right to bed and dreamed of when he would finally hook up the X-box and play to his heart's content. It's what he deserved for being such a hard working kid.
By 11:30 that morning on December 26th, Daryl had only played with his X-box for a little over an hour. He was just beginning to enjoy it, had it fully connected to the TV with controls working. It was then that he heard Father calling from the family room.
"Daryl...? Daryl...?"
"Yes Father!" nervously answered Daryl.
"Where are you?"
"I'm in the basement!" This of course, meant he was in the recreation room.
"What are you doing?" further probed Father.
"I'm playing with my X-box."
"That's enough of that, Boy!" declared Father. "You've played enough of that. Why don't you come upstairs and spend some time with your family. That's what the holidays are about.”
Daryl sighed out of disgust and dropped the controller on the sofa. By then he was feeling a bit of outraged that he couldn’t have the simple pleasure of enjoying his Christmas present. Father was always controlling his life; dictating when it was time to work, play, what his career choice would be. As for his career choice: according to Father, Daryl was to become a nuclear physicist—of all things. And Daryl didn't want to do this, of course. But for some reason Father thought that it would be a wise choice for a career. He read some article in a science magazine that reported that future careers as nuclear physicists would be booming in upcoming years; but it would require extremely intelligent, bright, young minds. And of course, Daryl was the perfect candidate for this in Father's eyes.
Daryl softly stamped his way up the stairs in further disgust and outrage. He did so, softly, to prevent Father from hearing. Had Father heard such a display of contempt and resentment, there would be punishment. Father might have taken the X-box away from Daryl. In extreme cases, Father might have even hit him.
Daryl finally made it into the family room where Father, Mother and his sister, Dawn, sat together. Dawn was sitting in a recliner chair and reading one of her new novels she had received for Christmas. Perhaps if Daryl hooked the X-box up in the family room, he would be able to enjoy it the same way that Dawn was able to enjoy her novel.
"Come sit down with us in here, Boy." invited Father.
Daryl wasn't happy but did his best to hide it. Reluctantly he sat down in an empty seat.
"I don't like it when you play those video games too much, Son." informed Father.
"But, Dad, I was only playing it for an hour." argued Daryl.
"I understand that." answered Father. "But that's plenty of time for you to play. Like I said before, the holidays are for family and to spend time with them. We are all in this room together and enjoying one another's company. That's the way it should be. Don't you agree?"
Feeling he had no choice, Daryl nodded in affirmation. "Yes..." But then he suggested, "Well, if I bring my new X-box upstairs and hook it up to the TV in the family room, can I play it up here?"
Father rejected the proposal. "No, I'm sorry. It doesn't work that way. I won't have you being one of those kids who play their video games 24 hours a day. You need regulated amounts of time on that thing. But forget about your video games for now. Let's talk about other things. Let's talk about school. Do you have any thoughts on how your first semester of sophomore year ended up?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders, "Well I got all A's."
"This is true." acknowledged Father. "But you know, Son, it was necessary for you to drop all of your extracurricular activities so that you could concentrate on your studies. It almost looked like you were struggling to earn these A's. When I was your age I took all of these classes and they were child's play for me. I took the same classes you did and I played cricket, I was in theater, I was in the Student Council, and I had time to be with my friends. School was just something to do; do the homework and prepare for the classes and ace them all. But look what you had to do. You had to drop all of your extracurricular activities so that you could focus on studying for your classes. You stayed in your room to study for six to eight hours a night to get your homework done. Now what's wrong with you, Boy?"
Daryl nervously shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know... I guess sometimes the classes are little too difficult for me."
"Too difficult for you?" repeated Father. "It shouldn't be. You are a very smart kid. The problem with you is that I think you don't believe in yourself enough. That's very important when taking these classes. You need to be that way. What's your hardest class right now that will carry into the next semester?"
"Laplace Transform... " answered Daryl. There were only four people in the school taking the class because it was terribly challenging. Most people have never even heard of Laplace Transform. Most people think that the highest math is Calculus. But Daryl had already taken Calculus One and Calculus Two. Now he was taking Laplace Transform so that he could become a nuclear physicist for Father.
"Why is Laplace Transform such a difficult class for you? asked Father.
"Well I can do the work." explained Daryl. "I just have trouble at first understanding, and it takes many hours of work to make it happen."
"Understood." acknowledged father. "But I envision you next semester not struggling so hard to pass this class. What do you say? Do you think you can do it?"
Daryl shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know... I guess..."
"What do you mean you don't know, Boy?" challenged Father. "That's the sort of attitude right there that is preventing you from acing your classes with no problem. Like I said before, you need to believe in yourself. I mean you don’t have any gumption or drive to you. That's something I had when your age. If something started to get challenging for me, I simply reminded myself that everything in life is relative, and I could easily overcome whatever obstacle was in my way. It was amazing. I just did it. I couldn't get over how easy it was. And that's how you need to be."
Daryl remained silent.
It was then that Father asked, "Did you bring your Laplace Transform textbook home with you?"
Daryl nodded his head, "Yes..."
Father continued, "Do you know what your lessons are going to be for next semester."
"Well I have the syllabus." answered Daryl. "I know what chapters the teacher will be going over."
"Excellent!" exclaimed Father. "Why don't we do this? The holidays are a good time for family to be together. What do you say you and I go up to your bedroom with your text book for some quality Father and Son time? We'll spend the afternoon studying ahead so that Laplace Transform will be easy for you next semester."
Daryl hated this idea. For one it was not going to be quality time with his father. Laplace Transform was a terribly difficult class for Daryl. He could barely understand the material. Father would see this and surly scold Daryl. It would be a miserable afternoon for sure. It was a horrible idea as far as Daryl was concerned. That's why he argued, "Oh, Father, it's Christmas break and I just want to relax and play with my X-box."
Father nodded his head in negation. "Out of the question!"
But Daryl continued to argue, "But why? I got it for Christmas to play with. Can't you just let me do this? Can't I just rest?"
It was then that Father warned, "I will take the thing away from you. Is that what you want?"
"No..." sadly answered Daryl.
"Then you will join me upstairs for the afternoon to study from your text book. Now let's go, Boy."
***
Just as Daryl anticipated, the afternoon was horrible. Father scolded Daryl for everything he did; the way he wrote out the Laplace Integral, his choice of notebook used to write on, and the fact that he needed a calculator at certain times. At one point in the afternoon Father had become so disgusted and outraged with his son that he shouted at him. He declared that Daryl was worthless, and that he couldn't believe that Daryl was actually his son. He confessed to beginning to suspect that Daryl had some sort of mental handicap that prevented him from performing mathematical calculations.
Poor Daryl had become so frustrated and overwhelmed from the negative comments from Father than he began to cry. It was then that Father spent a good forty-five minutes explaining that maybe it wasn't entirely Daryl’s fault. Maybe the American schools had failed Daryl; something in the education system that made Daryl somewhat defective in his thinking. Father reassured his son that he wouldn't let him become lost and slip away into becoming a worthless person in life. Then the two resumed working the problems out of the text book.
After some time, Daryl's confusion and seeming inability to comprehend the material threw Father into another rage. He shouted and stormed out of the room. And before slamming the door behind him, Father declared, "You could not possibly be my son!" Poor Daryl sat upstairs in his bedroom until nine o'clock that evening until Mother entered with a sandwich and a small glass of milk for her son.
But don't worry; on the last day of vacation, Daryl was allowed to play a couple of hours on his new X-box. It was interrupted by Father, of course, who declared that Daryl had played long enough. It was time for him to get ready for school the following day.

The End!