Yay! Fourth chappie up in a week! I write this for three reasons- 1) I get extra credit for it, 2) Trying to understand this whole "Seymour" deal, and 3) I WANNA! So, yeah... review!
Diary of a Madman's Son
11/16
Father and Mother are off at the Moonflow tonight. I don't know what they do there, only that ninety-nine percent of the time, Father carries Mother into the house in his arms, her eyes closed with a huge smile on her face. He holds her like a porcelain doll, and with her tiny frame, she looks it. It amazes me how Mother doesn't just crumble and fall to pieces under Father's hold. I think of my old storybook, "Beauty and the Beast," when I think of Mother and Father's relationship. Father is not holding Mother captive by any means other than his "drop dead good looks" and "massive abs tattooed with beautiful engravings," but still, she's the ying of Father's yang, the frail human girl in the claws of the massive towering half-man half-Guado monster. He's very gentle with her, however, having only hurt her one time that I remember.
Mother had been in one of her massive playing crazes and nobody seemed able to get through to her clouded mind. Father could do nothing more than slam his hand across her face and send her small self flying across the room into the couch where she suddenly began to cry. He'd done no more than dislocate her jaw, but that wasn't what made her cry, says she, but Father "breaking the dam that was holding back her emotions."
She's so emotional and scared of everything, it seems. I swear that Father spends almost ninety percent of his time with her just comforting her and assuring her that all would be well. It's okay, though. I don't think he minds, and I'd rather see him whispering gently in her ear, rocking back and forth with his cheek against her forehead than her beautiful face shedding tears. She's too pretty for that.
They've come home now. I can hear Father speaking to that servant of his, getting a report on my behavior. He's heard of my disobedience towards the thing that should have died long ago with my grandfather, no doubt. I don't like him! Of course I'm not going to listen to a word he says, especially not, "Quit writing and go to bed!"
This is MY journal that MY mother and MY father gave to ME to write about what I want to write about WHEN I wish to write about it, and I WANT to write about it NOW, and I will, no matter WHAT!
… Unless Father demands that I blow out my candle PRONTO and get my butt into bed…, which he has. Au revoir, mon ami!