Poetry by Dythandra

I See You When You're Sleeping, I Hide When You're Awake...
It comes but once a year,
I can hardly wait--
My father's office party.

He's third in command,
But our house is best suited for a party
(so his bosses tell him)

For two weeks they prepare
Calling caterers, baking, buying booze
Putting a padlock on my room for safety
Of all who might glance in.

It's really a matter of taste;
I've decorated in Nouveau Nihilist,
With a touch of goth, although my mother's
"My god what's wrong with that girl?"
Catches the essence of my design.

As the party approaches, my plan is executed.
They know what is coming--
My eating meals with them is one of the signs
...of the coming apocalypse.

"So Daddy," I smile, hiding the fangs for his comfort,
"How will I tell the 'stupid slut' from the 'menopausal cow' again?"
He blanches. I continue:
"Your boss--will it be awkward for him
To have both wife and secretary here--
Considering everything...?"

"How much?"
His hand shakes as he pulls a wad of bills from his wallet.
"How much for you to go out?"

I shake my head
"I wouldn't miss it for the world--
I even have new makeup and jewelry for the occasion."
I swear he palpably shudders.

I hide in my room for a few more hours,
Then come down with a list of my... 'requirements'.
The last vestiges of a curfew surrendered,
The garage given to my band--he can park on the street,
And my own key to the liquor cabinet.
(We both know that taking the lock off
Would be a bad idea--have you met my mother?)

He looks relieved, surprised I didn't take the cash
That can wait--after all
This year Christmas is at Grandmamas.