The Couch Incident

I knew that I was going to be an artist for as long as I can remember.  Since I was very young I had the longing to express my emotions through the form of drawing. I had dabbled in pens, markers, colored pencils and glitter but by the tender age of five I had exceeded the boundaries that society had set forth. Mere paper could no longer contain my artistic talents and I had decided that I would need to expand my horizons to a more controversial canvas. This canvas being the new couch my parents had just purchased from Crate & Barrel.

While my parents had been very proud of their new couch I found the furniture to be a bit bourgeois and decided to give it a more rustic ambiance. With my favorite pen, I began my artistic endeavor. The ink glided over the soft fabric and I knew this is would be one of my greater masterpieces. To the naked eye, my work may appear as a series of scribbles, but the trained artist would be able to recognize it as a brilliant piece of modern art.

I had just begun putting on the finishing touches when I heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Now while I knew that my work was an accomplishment well beyond my years, I feared that my mother may not feel the same way. Expecting this, I had kept my art contained towards the bottom part of the couch, but my efforts were fruitless. As soon as my mother saw me next to the "scribbles," with the pen in my hand and a guilty look on my face I knew it was all over. Still, I was desperate and discreetly tried to roll the pen under the couch. That was when my mother starting screaming, "WHO DID THIS!?" The question had caught me off guard. She had seen me next to the evidence with the pen literally in my hand. She had then seen me literally roll the pen under the couch. Could it be? Could it be that my mother was so blinded by rage that she didn't know it was me? "TELL ME WHO DID THIS," she bellowed. I could not believe my luck. "....Alice?" I answered.

My poor sister. My poor, small, innocent little sister. My sister, Alice, only three at the time, was much too young to be subjugated to the white hot fury that my mother was about to direct towards her. Alice had been downstairs, helping with the laundry, just trying to help around the house. My mother raced downstairs and began to rain her wrath down upon my younger sister and her little laundry basket. "YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE!" my mom began to scream. My sister started crying, "What did I do!?" She was obviously confused. "YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!" my mother continued. Honestly, it was pretty hilarious and I would have laughed if I hadn't been so focused on rescuing my favorite pen from under the couch.

Alice got a half an hour of time out. A half an hour! That is an entire episode of "Rugrats"! This kind of torture had been unheard of in my household until now and I felt awful. I contemplated coming out with the truth, but after the half hour time-out sentence I had decided to hold my tongue. I knew that artists suffered for their art all the time but I mean, C'mon. A half an hour? I was no hero.

Ten years passed and the guilt was still eating away at my soul. Although my sister and her developing young mind had gotten over it pretty quickly I had never forgotten my betrayal. I decided it was time to tell the truth. After ten years I assumed that nobody would even remember the couch incident. So, one day, while my mother, my sister and I were all in the car, I came clean.

"Hey mom, you're probably not even going to remember this, but remember that time Alice drew all over the couch?" I began. My mother answered, "Of course! Oh my God I was so mad at her, ugh I still can't believe she did that" Well that was....unexpected. I really thought my mother had forgotten all about it. Meanwhile, Alice was not paying attention, staring out the window probably cataloging birds or rocks or something. I continued. "Yeah, haha, well...um....that was actually me who drew on the couch. Not Alice. Isn't that hilarious? Hahaha...ha." Now this had my sister's attention. "THAT WAS YOU!?" she screamed, "I GOT A HALF HOUR TIME OUT FOR THAT. A HALF AND HOUR, EMMA! HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO ME!?" Then it was my mother's turn, "DO YOU KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE THAT COUCH WAS? IT WAS FROM CRATE & BARREL. I WAS MAD AT ALICE FOR YEARS BECAUSE OF THAT. YEARS!" For the rest of the car ride Alice just stared at me like I had just murdered half a dozen puppies while my mother just seethed at the wheel. What drama queens.

It has been almost five years since my confession and I am still hearing about it.

Well two can play at that game Alice, and I will never forgive you for killing my fish.


Or losing my Pokemon hat.


Jerk.