he bang- opened the door as if it would shatter into pieces. the pouring of rain outside was fierce as it tried to rip our roof off. it’s as if the world has been literally turned upside down. rain poured as if it was the sea pouring down.
after about three hurls of thunder coupled with blinding flashes of lightning, a pulpit suddenly appeared on the spot from where he stood. the pulpit grew tall as his eyes blaze fixed focus on us.
he roared in symphony with the thunder and lightning telling me to shut down the pc.
he slammed the door hard making the finale of his orchestra of rage.
i did not pay much attention to him as much as i had no reaction over the weather concert. he was just being superstitious and cautious. ok, i do got the cautious part, but the exaggerated thought of lightning, which seems miles away, striking the pc is just farfetched.
he was like that over the past few days; overly inconsistent like the weather.
after the near-death accident he experienced last year, i expected him to be more considerate and sensitive, but the accident seemed to brew vague emotional turbulence inside him.
he’s literally a man of words. his smooth talks helped him get his way, gain friends, survive life. actually, i first learned from him the pleasure of talking as a form of socialization. but ironically though, i can’t effectively use my speaking skills with him.
he’s not an all out dictator, but he always impose his patriarchal power whenever possible. it was as if military training made him deaf to other’s reasons, to the point of accepting no valid reason at all.
since i was a child, he always told me to respect the food served. respect for food entails immediately attending the dining table whenever food is served and not wasting a bit of it. of course, you should remain in your seat at the dining table unless you are done eating.
for almost a week, he has engaged himself in a hunger strike. he’s not eating any dish prepared by my mother. well, i know for sure that he can’t repress the crave of his apetite, so i’m not surprised whenever i caught him sneaking food if we’re not around. earlier, he got himself a small bowl where he placed his food. he ate his food at the living room, as contrast to his imposed dining etiquettes.
over the years, he has developed his disciplinary schemes such as being considerate to the neighbor by not banging doors and not shouting inside the house, understanding your fellow housemate’s needs, being broad-minded, and a whole lot more. it’s as if he’s doing a collection of his how to act accordingly inside the house book. he preach a lot, but most of the time, he is doing things against his preachings.
as the sound of thunder deadens, his pulpit retreated back to the abyss of his ego.
it appeared as if he enjoyed listening to nature’s wrath orchestra that he finally got himself to sleep at the living room.