Cussin’ at the Dinner Table

VietnamI only knew my Daddy for 14 years. If you subtract the younger years when you can’t really retain much memory then I suppose it’s less than that. As an adult I’ve come to realize just how short that period of time was.
My Daddy wasn’t a talker. In fact, he rarely ever spoke. He could go days without saying a word to you. He wasn’t mad. He just didn’t feel like his thoughts were important enough to voice them. When he did speak it was usually to ask for a glass of tea or issue some other command.
One evening at the dinner table Daddy had a gleam in his eye that I knew spelled trouble. He sat at the head of the table with Momma to his left. My brother and I shared the right side. Dinner conversation was usually a boring recount of the day’s labors. I didn’t speak much on account of Daddy’s rule. “Children shouldn’t speak unless they’re spoken to.” He wasn’t being mean. This was simply a belief of his.
Momma had made her usual stew meat and tomatoes that simmered in the slow cooker all day while she was at work. This was a particular favorite of mine because of Momma’s love of onions. That may sound strange but you see, Momma loved onions so much she’d cut them into big chunks which we in turn could easily pick out without fear of actually swallowing one.
On this very ordinary evening with fork in midair my Daddy looks at my Momma and says “I learned today what Ford (Ford Motor Company) stands for.” My innocent Momma replies “Yes? What is that?” That’s when Daddy blurts out “Fucking old re-built Dodge”.
Yes, my Daddy just said a bad word. A really bad word judging from the nine shades of red in Momma’s face. My brother and I quickly buried our snickers in our stew meat as my rebellious Father didn’t even try to stifle his laughter. This was going to be bad. I was trying to pretend like I hadn’t heard it cause I didn’t want no part of the lickin’ that Daddy was fixin’ to get. Shoot, I didn’t even know what that word meant but I could tell by Momma’s face that he wasn’t going to be repeating it anytime soon.

4 thoughts on “Cussin’ at the Dinner Table

  1. Almost Iowa

    My daughter said a bad word when she was three. A really bad word. She said it when my in-laws were over for dinner. The thing is, when she said it, she used the tone and inflection, of yours truly. Everyone instantly knew where she learned the word.

    We both got a tongue lashing.

    Reply
    1. snoogiefisk Post author

      LOL, my two year old cousin learned the f-word. Everybody is fighting over who he learned it from. Meanwhile he has figured out that it gets him attention so he likes to shout it in the grocery store.

      Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s