My Father sleeps with his mouth open...., Kerri McCord

My father sleeps with his mouth open, drool running down his chin, Budweiser in hand, CNN on the television. Stretched out on the couch, newspapers scattered around him and on the floor serve as evidence that he continues to search for the perfection he lacks in his own life. He dwells on the rapes and murders reported, happy to have a discussion topic at the dinner table. As my father sleeps, I can almost picture his dreams. They all consist of a perfect housewife who lives to cook and clean for him and the children, and children who obey him in a snap, with straight A's and brushed hair, kids he never has to lecture, a wife who vacuums and boils water "his way". My father snores and jerks, spilling beer on his hand and the floor. He continues to doze and I wonder what would happen if I held his nose closed. I also begin to worry that he will choke on his saliva that somehow manages not to overflow onto his five o'clock shadow. Something else catches my attention; a spider is building a web around the lightbulb above the couch. The notion of my father waking up to this spidey-friend on his nose is quite satisfying.