A little something I did when I was bored... Read and comment.

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Brent carefully studied the frog that lay before him. He had managed to split it through the centre, but was too grossed out to go further. He thought of a way to delay the teacher coming to him.

Last week, over dinner, Brent’s parents discussed the chances of him becoming a guitarist. “Never! Think practically, Brent! We’re doing this for your own good! Ten years down the road, when you’re a successful doctor and earning bags of money, you’ll thank us for making this decision!”

Brent quietly pushed the food around on his plate. “You can make bags of money as a guitarist too. Plus, you’ll be popular among people,” he pointed out.

His mother replied, “Oh please. Name a person who’s made money and become popular playing the guitar.”

Brent opened his eyes wide, and made a face. “A person? One person? Mom, Jimi Hendrix, Elvis Presley, The Bee Gees, The Rolling Stones, Oasis…,” Brent counted on his fingers. “I could tell you more, but you’d probably just yell at me.”

His mom looked at him angrily, put her fork down and stormed out of the room.

“Dad, you never say anything to support me. Come to think of it, you don’t say anything to support her either! Don’t you have anything to say? You sit there, quietly, like a fool…”

Brent got slapped across the face. Hard.

“If you disappoint your mother, by not becoming a doctor, I swear, I will never ever let you do anything else in your life. You will be sorry. So you better listen to your mother and do as she says!” Dad stormed out of the room this time.

“He still doesn’t have his own decision…,” Brent muttered to himself.

He had been attending classes the very next day. He had forty-eight classmates, but not a single one of them was interested in music. And it seemed to him that they never ever did anything that was remotely fun. Brent was fairly peeved at this, because he was used to parties and fun. And his parents had never been this strict with him. Till he was about sixteen, they had always let him have his own way. Perhaps too much. That’s why they’re being so strict now. Brent knew that some of Dad’s friends might have told him that he was not a good father, and he was now trying to rectify his mistakes by being utterly strict with his son. That’s not how you correct your mistakes. Is it? Brent silently cursed his Dad’s friend.

At twelve, when Brent cried and said he wanted a guitar after seeing a band perform on TV, they bought him a full-size one, and he could hardly hold it. But it had been a good investment, because Brent was very interested and he could play beautifully by the time he was fourteen. He was very modest though, and never boasted about being able to play well. His parents were proud too, and made him play for friends when they came over. You were just showing me off then, weren’t you? He had been very happy to demonstrate his skills, and once his uncle had even gifted him a brand new set of expensive strings.

That was all over. This was a new age, an age in which his parents didn’t give a damn what he thought, and wanted him to become a doctor. They weren’t trying to live their dreams through him, though. His dad was a successful chiropractor and his mother a psychologist. Perhaps they want me to do something they can relate to. Brent remembered his mother question at dinner. One person who plays the guitar and is famous. God, she could be silly sometimes!

Since he had started attending classes, he had been waking up at five a.m. and going to bed at midnight. He was used to sleeping for a minimum of seven hours, and the new routine was killing him. If I keep doing this, I probably won’t live to be a doctor. If I can study all this stuff, that is. He had been trying desperately to cram the everyday portion into his head, but he had achieved nothing so far. Absolutely nothing. The portions were difficult, he was absolutely not interested, and he was tired of his parents nagging him.

Brent looked at the split frog that lay before him, and puked.

THE END