Admonishment followed as soon as I stepped into the house. My parents and I had just returned from school, after my form teacher, Mr. Toh, phoned my parents to talk about my slipping grades and me mixing with bad companies. Reining in his vexation, Dad loured, instructing me not to meet my friends whom Mr. Toh called “bad companies”. Affronted by Dad’s demurral, I churlishly snapped at my parents, telling him that my friends, unlike them, cared for me and treated me like their blood brothers. With unbridled austereness, Dad berated me, and not taking well to his reproof, I imprudently mortified him. Gorged with unparalleled animosity, he gave me a heart-breaking slap, before calling my friends “uncivilised punk”.
Rising up against Dad with open rebelliousness, I hurled curt words of objection at Dad. ...view middle of the document...
Looking askance at such open displays of teenage rebellion, Mom scowled, condemning my plan to leave the house, before giving me a loathsome slap to my face. I was aggrieved. Forcing my way towards the door, I shoved her to the ground. Her face crumpled with sheer disappointment, helplessly reviewed my insolence and indiscipline. As I made my way down the stairs, I phoned my twenty year old friend, Jason, asking his whereabouts.
I made my way to the usual meeting place. I took a puff there, despite knowing that my parents forbidden me to do so. Unaffected by the slightest twinge of guilt, I took another puff. I was overcome by a sense of satisfaction. Trains of thoughts soon led me to a conclusion; the root of the problem was Mr. Toh. Delinquency was building hatred in my soul. I recalled on how puritanical Mr. Toh was whenever he spoke to me. Peeved by Mr. Toh’s priggishness, I told my friends about him. They were completely aggravated.
Out of the blue, I heard a familiar voice behind me that seemed to call my name. I spun around and saw Dad. He came over and enjoined me to go home. Rather than keeping from staging an open show of rebellion, I forthrightly refused to comply. Scoffing aloud, he publicly offered me a verbose speech on the consequences of teenage rebellion, highlighting the fact that I was still a teen who could not survive without the fortification of an adult. There was no need for exculpatory reasons that would provide the pretext for me to comply with his demands, for ensnared by raw indignation; I was bent on mortifying him. Efforts to stave off the contemptible contemplation of provoking Dad failed miserably and in my outright rebellion, I piqued him to the core, before leaving in Jason’s car. I looked back and saw Dad fermenting with unbridled wrath. Instead of feeling contrite about my act of outright rebellion, I revelled in joy. I offered no abject apologies and was not afflicted by a twinge of guilt for my outright manifestation of rebellion.