Anthony the Sadist
OMG, from Liz, more evidence that Anthony is an awful parent:
Apes
April,Poor Francie. I think my gift 2 her will B 2 start up a therapy fund 4 her. Poor kid will need it. I'll give contribution deets 2 NE1 who wants 2 pitch in.
Well, you no doubt will be happy to hear this, but it is a great tragedy, the salad I so lovingly prepared for our Christmas feast was destroyed, I couldn't lift it, so it had to stay at Anthony's, and then Anthony couldn't fit it inside his refrigerator, so he put it outside in a snowbank to refrigerate it, and Anthony's neighbor accidentally ran over the bowl with his snowblower, there were bits of macaroni and breadsticks and cheese all over the front yard, the whole place smells like ranch dressing, well, when I went over there (as I do every night after school) Anthony was already making a salad to replace it, it was one of the kind you like, with real lettuce in it, well, I had to laugh, Anthony played this game with Frenchy, he was cutting up carrots to go in the salad, since he heard they are Dee's favorite, and he pretended to chop his finger off, and said it got lost in the salad with the carrots, Frenchy was freaked out, it was hilarious how he messed with her mind as he pretended to look for the carrot, then he told her we would just have to eat the salad anyway and call it "finger food," I almost swooned, wordplay AND he is warping his daughter's little French mind, he's a dreamboat!, oh, and did I mention, he never told Frenchy the truth about his finger, so on Christmas when Frenchy tells you there are fingers in the salad, play along, we're hoping this "joke" will be a wonderful Christmas "memory" to cherish for years to come!
Liz
Apes
Labels: Anthony, depressing, Françoise, Liz
posted by April Patterson @ 7:45 AM
7 Comments:
At 10:50 AM,
Anonymous said…
April,
There are TONS! of fun games that you can play on a 2-8 year old like my daughter. The "finger trick" is just the lopped-off tip of the iceberg.
Here are some other favorites:
MONSTER IN THE CLOSET
After she's drifted off to sleep I sneak into her closet and make growly noises, jiggle the knob, make slurping sounds, and snarl "I'm going to eat you as soon as you get out of bed, Frannie" in my Exorcist voice. She screams and screams. It's fun.
NO ONE HOME
Night terrors usually mean she has to sleep in late. I get up before her and open all the doors to the house and the garage. Then I hide while she wanders around in the morning looking for me, calling "Daddy" in an increasingly frightened voice.
For extra effect, I sometimes pretend to hang myself in the basement. The look on her face when she sees me swaying from a beam is priceless.
TOILET TERROR
I warn her that when she flushes she needs to run away really fast or she'll get sucked down. Sometimes when I hear her in the bathroom I hold the door shut so she can't escape the flushing sound.
PHONE-Y CALL
This one always shuts her up when she starts asking to live with her mother. I do a Bob Newhart style fake phone call where I'm talking to the Quebitch and a pretend she's saying all kinds of awful things about Frannie and I'm defending her, "She's not that ugly! No, children with dark hair should not be drowned! I know she's been a little naughty, but that's no reason for you to say you hate her and will never see her again."
Ah, parenting. Good times.
Best,
Anthony
At 12:37 PM,
April Patterson said…
aw, poor francie. 4 thoze who r interested, i m setting up a site where u can use paypal 2 contribute 2 her therapy fund.
apes
At 12:45 PM,
DreadedCandiru2 said…
Here's an excellent prank to play on him: replace his shampoo with Nair. Watching him moan 'I have no haaaaaaaaiiiirrrrrr!' should be loads of yucks. Or maybe disconnect the brakes on his car after he drops Francie off at day-care.
At 1:30 PM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Formerly little sis. While I see the dreadedcandiru2 is full of nasty tricks, which you would expect from an Amazon catfish supervillain; Anthony Caine has once again given a number of great suggestions. You can tell he is definitely the "idea" man over at Mayes Midtown Motors.
I can't do the telephone conversation with my ex-wife naturally; but the others are all examples of the good-natured fun parents can have with their kids. These kinds of stories just warm my heart. I know Anthony and Elizabeth are going to be wonderful parents, who will play friendly tricks on their kids.
You may think the half-Quebecoise little girl is going to need therapy, and you are probably right, April. After all, isn't that the way with the half-Quebecoise? However, Anthony is clearly giving his daughter "time" and not "gifts". There is nothing that says, "I love you" more than the "time" it takes to convince your daughter you have severed your finger and put it in the salad.
I definitely have to include a scene like this in my next novel, Breaking the Windjammer. Maybe Leonard Driscoll can pretend he has cut his fingers off while peeling potatoes to make dinner for the crew. And the crew can have a rollicking good laugh, when Leonard calls their potatoes "finger food".
Love,
Michael Patterson
At 1:39 PM,
Anonymous said…
april, ok. i've put sum money in 4 françoise's therapy fund. ur sis' story kinda reminds me of the tyme i wuz w/my dad & he told me how he laced the brownies i just 8. he & his band crew were havin' a good laff of it 'till i started spittin' blood.
it's kinda innerestin' i usedta think my dad wuz the worst dad in the world. compared 2 sum of the dad's in mboro, i am beginnin' 2 unnerstand that my dad wuz mebbe "average". thass rilly a scary thot 4 me. cud it b that i hadda better childhood than sum othah peeps, just cuz my dad wuzn't around? i'm havin' a hard tyme w/this idea.
At 1:59 PM,
April Patterson said…
jeremy, mayB we shd take our minds off of all this by driving over 2 the mboro mall. shd i come by an' pick u up? we cd c a movie, check out the xmas displays, and c if there's nething xxciting going on out there.
apes
At 3:44 AM,
Anonymous said…
April,
Formerly little sis. There’s a time in every parent’s life, when he realizes that his little children have passed the point of being obsessive-compulsive about something and have simply turned the corner on full-fledged insanity. When that time comes, the only thing a parent can do is deal with his children’s obsessions and hope that some day they will be old enough to be put in some kind of institution made for those kinds of things.
Such was the situation today. I was busy working on my second novel Breaking the Windjammer, when I became aware of an altercation brewing in the house. Naturally, since I was busy at work, I ignored it.
I could hear my children lying on the floor beside the Christmas tree, muttering to themselves about how they were so anxious about Christmas they were going to lie next to the tree and stare intently at the Christmas tree skirt until presents appeared there. This is a technique I have not tried myself; but I doubted it would be successful.
Then I heard my son crawling around in the fireplace looking up the chimney for Santa, showing that our protective, free-standing,yellow, hover pole we purchased to keep the kids out of the fireplace was not a very good investment. However, I still think it works as a decorative curiosity, with its lack of visible support. It is certainly better than the investment of having completely rebricked the fireplace with multi-coloured bricks since last year.
Then I heard the kids say, “Gotta move chesterfield back by tree. Momma coming.” Then “Wait, it’s just that rabbit.” Then “What rabbit?” Then “Auntie April’s rabbit over there.” Then “That’s not a rabbit. Rabbit have sticky-up ears.” Then “No, momma says it’s a rabbit.” Then “Merrie. How you do that?” Then “What?” Then “Bend legs like that?” Then “What?” Then “One behind you. One in front.” Then “Shush! You’ll make my boyfriend mad.” Then “No. Merrie. Tree not boyfriend.” Then “Yes he is. I call him Leafy. He puts his branch on me to touch my special places.” Then “No Merrie. No put Leafy on your chest. It wrong.” Then “Leafy is my childhood sweetheart. I gonna marry Leafy.” Then “What momma say if she see you?” Then “Momma!!! Leafy was…” Then “Merrie wants to know when Santa here. She not in love with tree. Just Santa.”
Then I heard my wife, the lovely Deanna say, “Guys, …it’s another two sleeps before Santa comes.” Then I heard my son say, “Anover two sleeps?!!!” Then I heard my daughter whisper, “Does she mean naptimes or just nighttimes?” Then, “I dunno. Momma is weird.” Then “It a trick. Like last year. They say, ‘All presents burned. Sorry’.” Then “We gotta stop her.”
Then I heard my daughter say, “But…that’s so LONG!!” Then I heard my son say, “We want Santa to come NOW!” Then I heard some running and my children saying, “Get her! No escape!” And then there was some screaming.
Then after that, my wife, the lovely Deanna, brought the kids into where I was working and said, “Honey, would you do something with the kids, please?” I said, “Sure thing!” Then I said, “Cheeze, honey. Why are you leaning over to your left like some one did something to your left leg?” Deanna said, “Don’t ask.” But as I was putting their little coats on the children in complete darkness (darn instantaneous silhouettes), I could tell Deanna was thinking, “Great!—They need to get their minds off Christmas!”
Using my extra sensitive husband senses, I realized what Deanna wanted me to do. The best way to get children’s minds off Christmas is old-fashioned good parenting. I would take the kids to a toy store and let them stand outside and look at the window display, but not let them go in until they eventually get tired of Christmas and begged me to go someplace warm. Anthony Caine told me he did this so often with his half-Quebecoise daughter, that when they go to look at displays at toy stores she doesn’t even look at them. Trust Anthony to come up with a new way to teach children. That’s why he is the “idea man” at Mayes Midtown Motors. He was right once again. After a few hours in front of that display, and a few tears about wanting to go someplace warm, my children learned to get their minds off Christmas. Thank you, Anthony Caine!
Love,
Michael Patterson
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