Week 2, Journal #2

The square plastic table stuck out like a sore thumb in the living room surrounded by a what seemed like an eternity of hard wood. A china cabinet positioned up against the wall along with countless antiches set a distinct feeling of bordom. As the adults in the kitchen mix cocktails and sip on beers, I sat rocking in my chair at the plastic table. My seet was placed at the "kiddy table" awaiting confrontation from anyone. My cousins sat in he basement playing videogames and I was all alone to do nothing but sway in the chair in bordom. Kicking and pushing paying no attention to anything else. A moderately large cactus stood attention in the center of the table but I didnt care. The kicking became vigorous as I rocked a little too far tot he back. A stray kick knocked the legs of the table in and I fell like a sack of bricks. Staring at the inside of my eyelids they slide open to catch a glimpse of the cactus flying through the air in my direction. I was pinned by the table. As if in slow motion, the needles of the cactus degger my stomach and a yalp screeched from the slit in my lips and tears began to streem down my cheeks. Parents come to be verly little help when they are drunk.