BARBARIAN FOR DINNER

   

 

    I’m fifteen years old I wanted to yell!   My parents still treat me like my six-year-old brother Marco.  I just can’t talk to them about anything meaningful and mature.  Every time I try to explain about being vegetarian I hear things like,

      “It's a diet practiced by hippies." Dad can be so callous!

       "She’s just going through a phase.”  Mom just doesn’t recognize cruelty.  She invited these really gross people to dinner.

       “Mr. and Mrs. Donati are visiting from Italy,” my mother said in Italian.  They didn’t speak much English.  “…and this is our teenager.”  She pointed to me like I was an exhibit in a museum.  They nodded and smiled, showing us their big teeth.  Marco hid behind my Mom.

 

       Mom always cooks tons of food, and Mrs. Donut brought more food.

     “What a nice surprise,” my mother said, with that tight-lipped look that she gets when someone does something she really hates. 

 

barbs