Calvin and Hobbes

[GAD]

 

[GAD]

 

[davismanLV]

 

[GAD]

Related:

 

[GAD]

 

[GAD]

 

[GAD]

 

[GAD]

 

[Dimestore Liam]

When I was a kid, my father would not allow me to cook, 'cause he thought I would turn out to be a "sissy-boy" (he was completing his doctoral dissertation at the time). One night, my mother was out of town, and dad had to make dinner. He decided he would fry some eggs- in a red-hot, totally dry cast-iron skillet. I was like "Aah, dad... That might not-"; "SHUT UP." said dad "I know how to cook, and you don't". He cracked three eggs, dumped them into the skillet with a flourish. Instantly, the kitchen was full of foul-smelling black smoke. My little brothers both started to cry. Dad grabbed the handle of the skillet, screamed in agony, and dropped it on the floor "AAAAARGH, M-----F-----!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Flaming, blackened bits of egg covered the kitchen floor, and one began burning a hole in dad's sock as he stumbled to the sink and ran cold water on his horribly burnt hand. "Dad, your sock-", I began; "I said SHUT UP! ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL KNOCK YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF!!!". The sock burst into flame. "AAAAAAAAGH, G-- D--- IT!!!"

Dad splashed water on the flames, wrapped up his hand with ice in a dish-towel, grabbed the half-gallon of Carlo Rossi from the refrigerator, and hobbled to his "den". "CLEAN UP THIS G-- D--- MESS! ...and feed your brothers...". SLAM! The door-frame cracked, the lock clicked. My brothers were clinging to each other behind the table, trembling, with tears running down their faces. "I'm hungry" whimpered the younger one.

I calmed them down, cleaned up the mess, and looked through the kitchen. Not much there. Fresh mushrooms, though, and a clove of garlic; some butter. I told my brothers we were going to have a real treat- French cuisine! They started to cry again...

They liked the sauteéd mushrooms once they tried them, though, and used to regularly beg me to cook for them for the next several years, until I left home.

Dad never again said a word to me about staying out of the kitchen...
We didn't speak for roughly two decades, but get along well enough now.

You may think I'm exaggerating, but I am not. I'm well used to people not believing my stories, though, so no problem, hahaha!!!

 

[Dimestore Liam]

We all know what Calvin's dad looks like, but I bet you've never seen a picture of Hobbes's dad...

 

[davismanLV]

When I was a kid, my father would not allow me to cook, 'cause he thought I would turn out to be a "sissy-boy" (he was completing his doctoral dissertation at the time). One night, my mother was out of town, and dad had to make dinner. He decided he would fry some eggs- in a red-hot, totally dry cast-iron skillet. I was like "Aah, dad... That might not-"; "SHUT UP." said dad "I know how to cook, and you don't". He cracked three eggs, dumped them into the skillet with a flourish. Instantly, the kitchen was full of foul-smelling black smoke. My little brothers both started to cry. Dad grabbed the handle of the skillet, screamed in agony, and dropped it on the floor "AAAAARGH, M-----F-----!!!!! AAAAAAHHHHHH!!! Flaming, blackened bits of egg covered the kitchen floor, and one began burning a hole in dad's sock as he stumbled to the sink and ran cold water on his horribly burnt hand. "Dad, your sock-", I began; "I said SHUT UP! ONE MORE WORD AND I'LL KNOCK YOUR HEAD CLEAN OFF!!!". The sock burst into flame. "AAAAAAAAGH, G-- D--- IT!!!"

Dad splashed water on the flames, wrapped up his hand with ice in a dish-towel, grabbed the half-gallon of Carlo Rossi from the refrigerator, and hobbled to his "den". "CLEAN UP THIS G-- D--- MESS! ...and feed your brothers...". SLAM! The door-frame cracked, the lock clicked. My brothers were clinging to each other behind the table, trembling, with tears running down their faces. "I'm hungry" whimpered the younger one.

I calmed them down, cleaned up the mess, and looked through the kitchen. Not much there. Fresh mushrooms, though, and a clove of garlic; some butter. I told my brothers we were going to have a real treat- French cuisine! They started to cry again...

They liked the sauteéd mushrooms once they tried them, though, and used to regularly beg me to cook for them for the next several years, until I left home.

Dad never again said a word to me about staying out of the kitchen...
We didn't speak for roughly two decades, but get along well enough now.

You may think I'm exaggerating, but I am not. I'm well used to people not believing my stories, though, so no problem, hahaha!!!

My dad was a lot of things. Super smart, controlling, abusive, etc., etc. But on the rare times when my mom wasn't around I always enjoyed what he cooked. My mom wasn't creative or inspired. I remember the time he took thick sliced bologna and fried it in the pan until it cupped up and then filled it with beans and put chopped onions on top!! DELICIOUS!! He also always cooked Christmas breakfast. Those were times when it was okay. It was "Dad Food" and it was good. And if he didn't want to cook he just took me to the coffee shop and we ordered off the menu which was good, especially for breakfast. Not the greatest dad at all, but he did food okay!

 

[JohnW63]

"We didn't speak for roughly two decades, but get along well enough now. "

Not just because of the eggs and cast iron pan incident, right?

 

[Dimestore Liam]

Yeah. Same here, Tom (and John). My dad was definitely no cook, but he had plenty of good points. My father is one of the most brilliant people I've ever known, and in a classroom full of kids, he is absolutely magical. He retired many years ago after a successful career as a public school superintendent, and he still volunteers as a substitute teacher in his local district, simply because he loves so much to teach; he turned 80 just over a week ago.

Not a very good father, but access to his amazing library (and discussing books & history, etc.) was more than worth all the screaming, cursing & violence- not to mention all the other skills that so many of my peers and those younger never got to learn as kids (carpentry, plumbing, etc.). I mean, violence at home was not exactly uncommon in those days in a working-class environment, as many of you probably remember, so it was never as though I was the only kid in school with a black eye.

Pretty funny sometimes, too. After dinner that night, my brothers were crying again while laughing uncontrollably at what a fool he had made of himself, hahaha...

 

[GAD]

Lets keep at least one thread on topic please.

 

[JohnW63]

Sorry. I'll skate over to the penalty box....

 

[Dimestore Liam]

My fault- the original intention was the "Hobbes's dad" post, but that last comic strip reminded me of the skillet incident. I really do try, but it seems like everywhere I go I turn out to be a bad influence! Sorry G!

 

[davismanLV]

 

[Opsimath]

Horton Hears a Who

 

[davismanLV]

 

[Opsimath]

Especially dance numbers!