'I am a greek viking and everybody knows it. You can't tell me otherwise. I am so confident about this one thing in my life. I bet that you are jealous of my physique.'
I open my eyes. I am still a wiry man. I squeeze my eyes shut again.
'I am a Scottish ship builder. I have arms the size of pythons and I pop the heads of workers who finish all the coffee.'
I open my eyes again. I am still a little too thin. "Come on!" I scream. I jump out of bed and head towards the door. As I walk down the stairs I hear a commotion.
I enter the kitchen to find my son pulling cookies out of the oven. "OOH OOH! ME FIRST, ME FIRST!" I cheer, snatching a cookie from the baking sheet.
"Dad, they're still too hot-."
"AIIIGHH!!!" I scream, spitting the cookie out of my mouth as I run over to the sink. I run the cold water in my mouth for about 30 seconds.
"You fool," mutters my son.
"Watch your mouth, son!" I holler. "And please, let me know when the cookies have cooled down!" I leave the kitchen and walk into the living room where my wife is reading a book.
I sit across from her.
"I burnt my tongue on our son's cookies. You said that you were going to teach him how to bake properly."
"Ya know, I just love it when you shout at our children." She says, making a seductive face at me.
"That boy is going to kill someone with that terrible baking he's doing!"
"Does somebody need a massage?" Whispers my wife.
"Not now sweetie. Anyways," I say clasping my hands up to my face.
"I'm starting to get really insecure about my wiry frame! It's driving me insane and there's not a God damn thing that I can do to remedy this situation!" I look at my wife through my fingers.
"Do you have a solution for me?"
She opens her mouth to speak but something behind me suddenly catches her eye.
"OH COOKIES!! ME FIRST, ME FIRST!" She screams, throwing her book aside and running over to our son who has just entered the room with a platter of cookies.
"NO! I SAID THAT I WANT THE FIRST COOKIE!!" I roar as I jump to my feet.
"You always get the first one, dad," moans my son.
"That's because I'm the biggest and strongest one in this house! Give your dad a cookie son, come on." I hold my wife back with my arm. My son reluctantly hands me a cookie.
I bite into it and nearly weep. It is very good.
"NOT FAIR!" Screams my wife. "YOU'RE SUCH AN UGLY BRUTE!"
"I asked you for advice on how to get over my crippling insecurity and you completely disregarded my cries for help! This is called KARMA!!"
My wife stares at me. She is furious. She can barely keep the cookie crumbs in her mouth as she chews. Then she whips around and goes upstairs. I don't care much. I go over to the sofa and sit.
"Offer up another cookie, sport!" I say, grabbing at the air with my hand. "Daddy's hungry."
My son approaches and puts the tray under my nose like a waiter at a fine restaurant. I grab the largest cookie.
Suddenly my wife is coming down the stairs and she has two suitcases under both arms. She stops at the bottom of the stairs. "We're leaving,"
She declares, gesturing for our son to come over to her. "And we're taking the cookies with us."
"Oh no you're NOT!" I scream, snatching the tray before my son can escape. "I'm the biggest one in this house!" I roar, stuffing another cookie into my mouth.
My wife grunts in anger and heads towards the door. My son follows. I can hear rummaging as they put their shoes on and then open the front door.
They're gone. My life has fallen apart before my eyes, and all I'm left with is this tray of cookies.