“Why so serious?”

Haha. Oh!? You really want to know do you? Let me tell you. Have a seat will you?? Maybe a brownie while you are sitting there. I will

light us a little bonfire and make this a story time you won’t soon forget, but don’t be upset at me if you toss and turn tonight due to the lack of sleep from my haunting tale. You did kind of ask for it.

“Why am I so serious?” I will try to say this as clearly as I can, but don’t ask me to repeat it. Once I’m done telling you about this madding event in my life; I would like to refrain from going back to it. It is much to anxiety provoking for me to repeat it. I’ve already told it once and I don’t expect to have to tell it again.

So here it goes. I have always been that kind of girl that could walk into any room and light it up with a wink and a smile. And warm embrace if I felt it necessary. Let me explain why I don’t care to be so naive anymore. So happy. So lit. Let me explain why I do my business and then carry on... Some call me a bitch. I call myself protected. Some say I have no care in the world and maybe they are right. I will let you decide.

This memorable event took place on an early winter evening. We had just finished watching a dark movie about a man that lived in a city full of outrageously wondrous people. This man, he was quite charming, yet witty and handsome; he wore a peculiar set of armor and black spandex from head to toe. He even drove a shiny luxurious black sports car and instead of keeping warm with a coat, he preferred a long black cape and interestingly enough, it matched his car and his wardrobe. Did I mention he even had a friendly butler? His perplexity made him extremely desirable in my eyes. I think I had a crush on this delicious hero. I couldn’t wait to go back again to see his handsome face on the silver screen with my friends, instead of with my passive mother and quirky predictably drunk father.

When we arrived home that night he immediately headed towards the fridge for a glass of cognac- no less. I decided I would stick around in the kitchen area with him since I was craving strawberries. I grabbed them out of their ice cold bin and began to wash and cut each plump piece one at a time. My mother had already went up stairs to shower and get ready for bed. I figured I would be fine. I mean I would only be with this crazy man for a few minutes. But he suddenly alarmed me when he decided to grab my knife away from me. It was the last strawberry left for me to cut too. And i could not understand why he wanted my knife. Then the room went completely dark. I couldn’t see anything until he came towards my now illuminated face, no thanks to his flashlight held firmly in his right hand, blinding me to where all I could see was an array of indigo spots; and in his gloved left hand he held the knife I had just been using to cut my delicious strawberries with. He had the knife so close to my face I could see little red juicy pieces falling off the edges of the newly sharpened blade. He then proceeded to to tell me he got the same marks on his face, that he was about to give me, from his alcoholic deadbeat father; I began to panic thinking he was having another alcohol induced insanity spell. I really didn’t have to guess if it was one or not because it was quite obvious he was definitely having one of his moments where he was blacking out again. I had only heard about these spells from my sisters and mom. I had not been around him when these episodes occurred in the past, so to be honest I really I wasn’t sure what to expect. But now I knew why my sisters and mother had told me that he had been quite the force to deal with when he was in a drunken stupor. I had been around many drunks in my life but had never in all my years dealt with anyone so demented like him. He was acting crazy. And I will never forget the moment when all of this craziness took place, it still stands still like the hands of time, similar to the ones that adorn the clock tattoo on my upper right shoulder. If people only knew the sentiment behind the tick and the tock of that masterpiece of blue ink. I always refrained from actually telling anyone the truth. I never wanted to forget it though so now it’s a permanent part of not only my mind but my body as well. And it was the reason behind my serious pose when I was prosecuting jerks like the joker that tried to slaughter me that night. He was not my dad that night and was not of worldly flesh. He was completely rotten. He had in fact become a monster. Some say I had it coming. I admit that I pushed him to his brink and managed to hit him at his breaking point. I had known for quite some time that he was capable of snapping. Maybe I did? Maybe I didn’t? It really didn’t matter. If memory serves me correctly I grabbed my keys out of my pocket while he stood there with his sadistic smile, staring and never once looking away. It was at that frozen moment in time that I grabbed for my keys. I kept reaching for them until I could feel the tiny cold pieces of metal between my fingers. I began to defend myself. I started doing what any alarmed young woman would do and screamed at him to let me go as he pressed the knife further into my face. I could feel warm blood dripping off the edge of that stainless steel, but surprisingly I felt no pain. I managed to release myself from his grip. His flashlight hit the floor and tumbled around blindly in the dark. He began to laugh hysterically as I ran right into the corner of a cabinet, banging my head so hard I thought I had a concussion. I could still hear my father laughing as he rolled into the floor gasping for air. My mom ran down the stairs, flipping a light switch on and asking if we were okay. And of course I wasn’t okay. I had blood....wait, this wasn’t blood. It was freaking ketchup. -That jerk!! He had played a shameless trick on me. I seriously had thought he had gone mad. I mean he had never told me why he had the scars on his mouth and I thought for sure he was having one of his moments everyone had warned me about. I couldn’t stand to look at him as he rolled around the floor. And as I looked at my surroundings I could see the infamous ketchup bottle lying sideway on the granite countertops.

He looked at me with a unapologetic grin and with his best joker imitation asked me. “ Why so serious?”