“Try it again; you’re muting the F note.”
“But dad, it’s too hard, I can’t.”
“Yes you can, Darleen, you know I don’t like it when you say I can’t.”
“Stop with the buts, try it again.”
“Dad, I can’t do…”
* * *
“What is wrong with you,” Darleen said as she ran out of the room, her dad two steps behind her. In his left hand, he held the neck of a ¾ size classical guitar. Only splinters remained of the guitar’s body and the nylon strings were hanging almost to the floor.
There, Darleen, now it’s a fact… You can’t.
Come on admit it, you think about things like this. You have thoughts of pushing your kid out of his chair when he spits his food on the floor or throwing his favorite toy out the window when he won’t share. It’s funny, as long as you just think about it.
This story was my contribution to Friday Fictioneers. Make sure to stop by and check out stories from other authors.