Myth #5

Exhausting day at the track today. It rained almost the whole time, unfortunately, so we only saw ten races. All dragsters, two funny cars, no bikes or pro-stock. Damnit!

Myth #5. Yamis and hikaris never fight. They know each other too well. (Source)

Truth Votes: 0
Myth Votes: 1

Apparently, Anonymous believes that hikaris and yamis do occasionally fight because "they have different opinions on certain areas".

Anonymous is absolutely correct! Yamis and hikaris do occasionally enter into disagreements that can turn into a battle of wits. Perhaps even wills. Thankfully, this doesn't happen too often. We fight maybe once every few years or so. I'll give you two examples though, one serious and one funny.

The serious example is that we always disagree and have the majority of our fights over one subject- Marlie's dad. I already told you in a previous post how he didn't like her parking his car in my driveway because I apparently live in a "bad neighborhood". He's just a real douche. He left her mom, her, and her 1-year-old sister when she was three or four and that really made life tough for them. He wasn't exactly a big executive at where he worked or anything, but he had been helping to bring in money while Marlie's mom took care of her kids and kept the house tidy. When he left, Marlie's mom (who I am as close to as my own mother and actually call "Mom") put them in daycare and got into that single-mother-parenting mode, which is a sucky mode to be in. I don't care if you're a single mom and you're proud of it. Good. You have something to be proud of. That doesn't mean, however, that it isn't a sucky position period.

Besides the official divorce reason, Marlie's dad is just... weird. Like, seriously. There's something that's definitely creepy about him, from the way he drives (every time we're on a straightaway, he lets the car drift slowly to the side, then jerks it back to the middle of the lane. What the fuck, man?) to the way he photographs everything (he's one of those artsy types). Ugh. He rubs me the wrong way. He's especially made me angry since Marlie turned eighteen and he stopped giving her any support. He didn't get her Christmas presents or a birthday present. He doesn't help to pay for college. Yet he still demands that she come over and sleep over every so often. She only does it because he makes her feel guilty.

I hate that man! He makes her life miserable just by being in it.

Marlie disagrees. She tells me that she loves him anyway, and that she can't help that.

I'm not one for children-automatically-must-love-their-parents. It doesn't work that way! You have to build love. You have to have a reason for it. I hate when people feel guilty enough to do something for a family member they don't even like because the person's family. Fuck family, unless you love them. They shouldn't even be a blip on the radar if you don't love them.

Marlie gets so upset when her dad makes her stay over that she usually persuades me to come with her. That, I can't help with myself. I have to go with her to support her, even though I hate the house, I hate that man, and I hate how they don't clean up after their cats so that it smells and makes my eyes water.

One time, I argued with her while we were over there. She was getting annoyed at me, I was getting annoyed at her, and the tension was building.

I was whispering to her because the walls in that house are thin. "We ought to leave now. Just tell him! You don't like staying here, you have no reason to stay here-"

"I have to stay!" she hissed at me. "He's my dad, I'm obligated-"

"There's no obligation-"

"There is!" she shrieked, and she gave me a shove onto the floor.

"Don't take out your anger at him on me!" I snarled, pushing her back. She answered with her own frustrated growl and the argument devolved into a furious, ridiculous wrestling match where we were trying to pin each other.

"I'm staying here tonight!" Marlie vowed, getting both my wrists, but I flipped her off and began wrestling to try and get her back on the ground.

"We've leaving!" I insisted.

"No, we're NOT!" she full-out shouted, giving me an enormous shove. I slammed back against her wooden bed frame with a surprised squeak.

CRACK.

We both froze, not entirely sure what had happened.

"Are you okay?" she asked me frantically She pulled me from where I'd fallen and squeezed different bones to see if I reacted- my arms, my legs. I didn't bother to tell her that if I'd broken my spine and she'd moved me, I would probably be paralyzed by now. "Was that you? Are you broken?"

"I'm fine,"I assured her. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," she said, bewildered, and together we looked at the bed.

Right where one of the wooden legs protruded from the frame was an enormous crack. The force of her shove and the impact of my body had actually broken her bed.

"The bed!" we said at the same time and burst out laughing.

There was a knock at the door and it began to open. By the time her dad stuck his head in the room, I was nonchalantly watching TV. Marlie was strategically sitting in front of the cracked leg. "Everything alright, Alyssa? Marlie?"

"Fine," I answered, gritting my teeth. For once, it wasn't because of tension. It was because I was trying to keep from laughing.

"Fine," Marlie answered innocently. She accidentally placed too much pressure against the bed in her casual act, and it gave a loud, ominous creak. Her father paused from where he had begun to leave. Luckily, the creak sounded less like a cracked bed frame than a fart. So...

"Excuse me." I blurted out. I think my face turned red as a fire hydrant.

"Excused," he said stiffly. This time he really did leave, and we laughed ourselves sick for the next few hours. We eventually decided to fix the broken leg with duct tape- the material of the gods. Marlie still sleeps in that bed when she visits. Apparently the duct tape is still holding up well despite it being five years or so.

The funny example (even though that fight did end on a funny note) will come tomorrow because it's a rather long story. In the meantime, do you believe that you should love your family simply because they're your family, no matter how they treat you, or do you believe that you should love them only if they are deserving of your affection?