.Okay Tuttle-fans. I haven't really encountered too many new things to review lately, so I'm going to take you back in time for a review from the past. This incident took place back in my short-lived "gothic" period many years back. If you remember clearly it was when I had a few gothic "friends" who I believe were in a cult of evil. We listened to a lot of Marylen Mansein, which caused me to change into quite a monster sometimes. I guess you could say that this is the second most outrageous encounter I had during this phase of my life. I've gotten lots of responsed regarding the Marylin Mansin review, with people wanting to know more about my gothic-phase, so I'll give you this little occurence, just sort of as a bonus review. It's not quite as wild, but hey, what do you expect?
Anyways, back after the incident where I got into a HUGE physical altercation with my parents and my dog (Morris), I was put under lock-down for a long time up in my room. I wasn't allowed to do much of anything. Just sitting up there in solitary-comfinment like a caged-animal. This one night I came to the table for dinner, and in my place was a paper plate and plastic utensils. My parents informed me that for the safety of everyone in the house, that i not be allowed the use of any hard or sharp objects at the dinner table. I thought this was the most ridiculous thing ever and thought that surely they must be joking. But, oh no, they weren't! I was to eat off of a paper-plate and they even had for me a red, plastic cup. the same color of my fury burning from inside. I told my parents that this was completely uncalled for. I screamed about it, very loudly for only like a minute. My dad just sat there staring at me, somehow remaining calm. He very sternly told me my options. If I wanted to keep up the attitude, i would have to go back to my room and only be able to feast upon the smells of what dinner was. I didn't even really like what Mom had made. She always makes up her own recipies and is constantly working on a really stupid catalogue of alphabetized "original dishes". She has this ridiculous delusion that she will one day get them published in a book, and she will appear on Oprah or Martha Stewart. That night I clearly remember she served Corn-Chops and Turkey-Ravioli. Not my favorites. But I was reeeeeally hungry.
So anyways, I just didn't say anything and sat down and ate my stupid meal. After finishing it, I figured they couldn't make me give the food back, so i gave them a good piece of my mind. I mean, what were they going to do? Send me to bed? I already had to go back in my room anyway. I told them that i thought they were acting completely unrealistic and that i shouldn't have to be subjected to such idiotic punishments. I told them how stupid they were, and that plastic silver-wear can be just as harmful as silver silver-ware. Then, my dad went on some stupid rant about how i better act right or they might have to "put me somewhere". He wanted to send me some kind of institution or something. A completely irrational threat, given the situation. I did not appreciate his tone one bit. Not being able to hold my rage in any longer, I unleashed all my fury and tore the ends off of my plastic silverwear off with my teeth, right in front of them. I took a HUGE handful of Turkey-Ravioli and flung it at both of them. Dad leapt up immediately, but there was a table between us, so he couldn't get ahold of me. I blind-sided him with a Corn-Chop in the face as he leaned over the table. Some of the garlic-butter must have got in his eyes because he reeled back for a second, leaving mom wide open. I proceeded to mash tomato sauce and Turky-Ravioli into her hair and face. Morris started a bark-jump frenzy so I turned my attention to him.
Now don't get me wrong. This wasn't as serious as the Maralin Mansin incident, but I really wanted to teach them a lesson. No sooner did I start to go at Morris, my dad recovered and held me in a really painful arm-hold. I realized he had gotten the better of me so I simply went completely limp and just laid on the ground in a sort of silent-protest. This really seemed to work, and I just laid there until they went to bed. As I cleaned everything up the next-day as a punishment, I just sort of started to calm down and change back into the real-me in the next few weeks.
In conclusion, this was the last time I really tried to use force against my parents. Like I have mentioned before, I really out-grew this gothic-phase of mine. There were a LOT more things that happened during this time-period, but I would much rather try to keep my reviews in the current-times, and not have to relive this dark-time in my life. Hope you guys liked it. I'm not proud of it in any way, just so you know. You can still e-mail me if you want more. As for the plastic silver-ware, I'll still hold my ground and say that it is just as dangerous as the real silver kind. Maybe even more, because people might let their guard down more. Later.
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