Happy Father's Day

Walking into the room, I could hear the faint snores of my father still sleeping in his bed. I tiptoed across the floor, doing my best to make as little noise as possible, until I reached the center of the bed. Looking up I could see the top looming far over my five year old head and looking as an impossible a climb as Mount Everest.  I looked over at my older brother crouching in the hallway egging me on to do his bidding. Reaching my small hand up toward the blanket that conveniently hung down, while grasping the miniaturized air horn in the other, I struggled and pulled my way to the top of the bed. Then, stopping for breath, I slowly inched my way toward my unsuspecting parents. Suddenly the bed began to move as my mother awoke and turned to find me pointing the air horn at my father like a five year old hit man ready to dispatch his mark. By the time she realized what I was doing it was too late. I pushed the button and the air horn produced an obnoxious honk akin to the awakening of the kraken. My father sprang from the bed like a rocket, and then proceeded to very clumsily plant his glasses on his nose before turning to look at me like a wild man who just found his next meal. Happy Father’s Day I squeaked between gales of laughter, while my brother was laying on the ground in the hallway, tears streaming down his face, laughing his face off. Even my mother was doing everything she could not to chuckle looking at my father with slight pity in her eyes. “Happy Father’s” day I said again when I could again speak without laughing. He looked down at me with a serious look on his thin face and then bust up laughing. Which caused everyone else to begin to laugh again, and we laughed and laughed until our sides where sore.