It’s been several hours now with my parents at my apartment although it feels like several eternities. They only way I have managed to accurately keep track of the time is due to my mother’s clockwork routine.
It must be approximately 4h30pm as she is on her fifth glass of wine and has finished cleaning the house (again) and has started dinner, having just finished baking 2 cakes and some cookies. She appears to be worried that I am looking dangerously thin (she should meet Eddie the coffee dwarf).
My dad continues to sit in silence in my favourite (well only) recliner occasionally asking questions, although I think “What is the point of it all?” is supposed to be rhetorical.
I have decided that for the sake of sanity and my waist line, that it would be best to show my parents a bit of the city tomorrow. You see my parents have never really spent much time outside of the small town where I grew up (except my father who allegedly had adventures all across the globe – although never spoke of the city. Perhaps dragons, demons and damsels in distress prefer to keep their escapades to more rural backdrops).
The town I grew up in was well interesting to say the most. Generally when I ask anyone if they’ve ever been there they usual answered “Never heard of it” or “Once, by accident”. I didn’t really fit in with the local adventuring community, for one my name “Chris” didn’t really inspire many when surrounded with the other kids who had cool adventuring names like “Aragonoth”, “Lyndengard” or “Salamindaran”.
It was a typical small town with small town ways and whose citizens shared small town beliefs. They believed in the sanctity of marriage, of respecting your elders and that technology was the devil. Heck, when they tried to erect a cell phone tower near the town they only let it stand long enough to hang the entire construction crew before burning it to the ground. To be honest I’m not sure why they even tried to get cell phone reception in the town since no one believed in cell phones, although to be fair they didn’t believe in a lot of things. They still think that Asian people are a bedtime story told to scare children. (Maybe taking my parents into the city isn’t such a great idea)
My father was always the talk of the town, the most bravest adventurest adventurer that ever ever’ed (their words not mine). While I was never really into the whole adventuring thing, but at least I’ve finally found something that I’m good (well adequate) at, maybe I should show him around work, let him see what I really do. At the very least I’ll have someone with whom to share my pain