May We Go, Father?

Pat and Wendy were invited to go to the beach. The day was perfect and there was no school tomorrow so their father wouldn’t be able to argue there. They had done all the laundry for the whole family so no argument there. Dinner was ready for him at the table. The floor shined like polished silver so he couldn’t beat them for that. Everything in the house was immaculate.

Wendy finished drying and putting the dishes away. Pat made sure her clothes were without stain and not a single hair on her head was out of place. Then, they waited for father to come home, nervously fingering their modest one-piece bathing suits that father demanded they wear.

They heard the door slam open and close and their hearts began to pound. They waited thirty minutes for father to be relaxed with his first beer of the night.

“Father,” Pat goes over to him and asks, “may we go to the beach tonight?”

He looks around, “You can’t, it’s raining.”

Pat looks outside, “No, it’s not.”

His voice becomes steel, “I said it’s raining.”

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