Reminiscence

I used eight prompts gotten from https://writingexercises.co.uk/random-words-exercises.php, courtesy of a post by @Ozzyy .

My prompts were: patronize, endure, baffled, furious, brave, wax, doll, tea.

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Growing up was something of a bittersweet experience for me, as it was for almost everyone. My parents were very conservative, and as such very strict. Only the brave could question their rules and decisions. We sort of grew up feeling that having fun was a bad thing, and even till now, using my phone in front of my parents feels wrong.

It was hard to be nice. My parents knew that they were making things a bit hard for us, though they never admitted it. How do I know this? Sometimes I would try acting nice to them, because Hollywood and the Sunday School Teachers made me believe that by acting nicely, they would be prompted to reciprocate, and our relationship would wax stronger.

But I was wrong, because they saw it as me trying to patronize them; in their minds, my nice actions were a front for some under plot of bad intentions from my side. That is, they had this mechanical nothing-goes-for-nothing mentality wired into their circuitry. When I noticed that my actions weren't any good, I became just as mechanical as them. I guess Sunday School was right after all.

My Dad got me a dog for my 10th birthday. He was a German Shepherd, and I named him claw. That was because barely over a week after we bought him, a burglar tried to enter our home while we were out, and Claw bit him on his hand.

We came back to see that the burglar was unconscious due to blood loss; he had punched Claw several times, but the dog simply wouldn't let go. I was baffled, and first thought it was a dog's insane ability to endure, but I later found out German Shepherds had one of the strongest bites.

Claw was the best git I ever got from my Dad, and everyone liked him. Everyone except our neighbor, that is. Mrs. Lois was a divorcee who loved green tea, had two children and a cat. I didn't like cats, but I had nothing but pure hatred for her cat due to an experience. One day it strayed into our home and Claw attacked it. I tried to rescue it, but it scratched me and bolted away. That incident made Mrs. Lois furious, and she hated Claw since then.

One day, we came back home and saw Claw lying limp in front of his cage. He was dead. I cried a lot, and the vet said it was poison who killed him. Mrs Lois consoled me, but she was smiling like a doll, and it was creepy and awkward. When I mentioned i, my mother hit me with my slipper, but like you reading this, I know Mrs. Lois had something to do with it.