Personal Narrative Incident-Scared My Dad

I could hear him in the kitchen popping the aluminum cap off of his frosty bottled brew. He was saying my name in an imitative way, “Tyyyler.” His voice reminded me of the old woman that I shared games of bingo with in the nursing home for community service. Knowing my dad and how dim-witted he acts, I exited the den of our one-story ranch house and crept down our wooded hall to the kitchen doorway. As I approached, my dad was still teasingly spitting out the letters that make up my first name. I couldn’t help but to giggle hysterically in my head while I stayed low to the ground anticipating his steps. Little did he know the irony of his situation. While he was getting a rise out of his silly voice with my name in it, I would soon get a rise out of him. His footsteps were growing in sound as he began a stride toward the hall. I was like a kid in a candy store trying to pick out instead of the perfect flavor, the perfect time. There were so many instances to make my move that it was kind of funny to ponder the power I contained over my dad’s lackadaisical weekend attitude. His brief time of amusement and my awaited action were soon following a meeting of confliction. I released from my crouched position as a butterfly does from a cocoon but at the rat of a missile from a 9mm handgun. The priceless look on his face when I exploded en route of his inattentive body will forever be embedded in my mind. I went above and beyond the requirements of my mission. My dad jumped totally out of his skin when he saw me. It was just how I would imagine a persons reaction to just seeing a ghost. Making his flinched response even better was the chemical reaction of the drink he was holding. The quick rapid movement he made caused his brewed concoction to foam and spill all over the place. This was one of the funniest most unforgettable moments of my life. I still cry with laughter and get a runny nose when I think about it.