While I was slurping up a particularly long spaghetti with sauce and Parmesan, Dad's chair broke, dropping him to the floor, under the table. He got all red and screamed. Then, he picked up the chair, opened the door to the balcony and hurled the dinner chair way out into the pool.
Mom begged him, "Don't throw the chair in the pool, please! Don't start throwing things around, you're scaring the dogs!"
Mom's old Pet friend was dabbing her eyes with her napkin and making squealing noises like a toy while Dad stumbled in his clogs on his way back into the dining room.
Then, Dad took off his shoes, growled like a wild beast and threw his clogs way out past the pool and into my poop area, down the mountain, under the Hollywood sign.
After dinner, Mom, her old Pet friend and Dad settled in the library to look at chateaux for sale in Normandy on the Internet. What idiots. They're never happy with what they've got. I never dreamed of having a pool and a big yard when I was on death row in San Pedro.
It was not a great sleepy night. They took piles of papers down to the bedroom and watched the opening bell of the London market on TV, really loud.
Then Dad was calling London and made maneuvers with his Euros so he "could stop the bleeding."
"I feel like a sitting duck here with the idiots from Bear Sterns. The Euro could go into a free fall. Don't these idiots know that the Forex Desk is open in London? I'm going to have to teach her how to do her job!" I think Dad was talking about the "stupid cunt" who works at Bear Stearns here in LA, who thinks that you can only trade while she is in her office.
I wish Dad didn't get so mad about his Euros going up and down. I mean, all we need is a bed and some food. I think Mom and Dad are obsessed with all the wrong things. All we really need is to be in a pack. It doesn't matter where.
Finley woke up REALLY early and made Mom take her rat hunting in the dark.