I slowly went down the stairs, not knowing what to expect. This could go one of two ways. One, dad could just yell at me, or two, he could yell and beat the living crap out of me. I really didn't want either, as you can imagine.
Turning the corner into the living room I find mom weeping on the couch and dad glaring at me with the reddest face. My heart rate sped up. Dads not exactly what you call, the soft type. He looks like a fricken pro champion boxer on steroids.
