I walked upstairs to my bedroom, it's the room right by my parents' suite, and went to bed.
The next morning I woke up to hear guitar riffs playing in my parents' bedroom. I didn't even have to get up to see who was doing it. I knew. To add insult to injury, my mom was still sleeping. You could imagine she was pretty ticked.
So she got up and marched over to where my dad had become the human alarm clock and let him have it. "Nathan!" she shouted. "Can't you see I'm trying to sleep here, I've had a rough night."
"Aww, baby, I was just trying to make you feel better."
"At any other time your music is great, but not now, not while I have this splitting headache and NOT WHILE YOUR DAUGHTER IS OUT OF CONTROL!"
Dad kinda looked at her like he didn't know what she was talking about.
"You do realize the cops brought your daughter home last night, right?"
"Uh-hum," he hummed as he continued his tune. "I wanted you to hear my latest composition, I've been working all night on it --"
"Nathan, did you hear a word I said?" Mom walked downstairs to the kitchen where she began fixing breakfast.
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