Simon says...

I looked over the crumpled piece of paper just been handed to me, unable to understand what actually had been put down in words. Instead, my eyes land on the same word. Scribbled in a nauseatingly jittery writing, there it was, alone. 'Inhale'. So I did. It's so easy doing what you're told, exactly how you're told. Kind of like a game we used to play as kids. "Simon says, Inhale." So we did. "Simon says, jump!" So we did. There, plain and simple. Just do as Simon says, and your life will be a whole lot better.

Jump on a bed, jump on a bed. Your life's just brilliant, jump on a bed.

My dad gave us all letters one new year. I remember reading it over and over again. All the time when I'd be alone, or bored, or helpless, or alone. It wasn't much really considering i was only nine back then, just the usual "you're a great kid" and the "I know you'll do me proud one day". Or will I? See, here's the fucking thing that Simon doesn't say. Things that he really really should. I wonder if I am the person my father wanted me to be, the kind that would do him proud? So yeah, Simon really doesn't say fucking much now! Out of all the times when he was going jump, fetch, run, play dead and I fucking obeyed like a fucking cowardly house-dog, the faggots SHUT UP now!!! So, really...what DO you say now?

That letter really is the closest connection I have to my father. Even though I don't have it on me, I know it's back home waiting for me. I will always write to my children.

mush-monster, wuss? Maybe.