Silent Night

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June 29th, 2012

I sit in my chair at night and stare at the computer. The screen light glows and sheds light on my youngest son, who has fallen asleep in my left arm. I can't see his face, but I can count the strands of hair that have fallen perfectly into place along his hairline. I can't see his mouth, but I can hear the sucking noise of him using his fingers to soothe himself to sleep. I can not see his eyes, but I know they are as blue as the sky, and if you look into them, you can see heaven. He is asleep, but I can hear his laughter reverberating through my soul. His life is in my hands as my hand rubs his back. His heart is caught in my blood and will stay there as long as it is coercing through my veins.

I have to move. My arms are falling asleep, my body following suit. The tricky part is to upright the recliner, scoop my son up, and carry him to his part of the couch. I lean forward ever so gently, pushing the footrest as hard as I can so it will slide into the pocket of the chair and lock into place.

"Bark!"

Shit, the footrest hit the dog, who decided to lie underneath the open springs of the recliner. My son stretches his head back. His hair follicles hit my bicep. I freeze. I whisper to my yellow Labrador.

"Sorry Champ. I didn't mean to…"

He walked away, not waiting to let me finish my heartfelt apology. "Well, screw you too," I said quietly, which made it ineffective.

I slowly lift my butt from the chair. My forward weight rocked it back.

"Slam!"

The back of the chair hit the wall. I close my eyes and suck in my breath, holding it in… holding it… holding it… I open one eye at my son, who hasn't moved from his arched position while resting in my arms.

"Sigh."

I let the air out as my body deflates. My shoulders sulk downward. My head bowed down. The room is lit very lightly by the computer screen. I tip-toed across the floor toward the couch, aiming directly at the pillow.

"Whack!"

I kicked the damn toy truck that was sitting in the middle of the floor. I scream in my head. My mouth opened wide. I push the air out in silent screams. I close my mouth and grind my teeth, feverishly rubbing my toes on the ground for some awkward comfort. I stretch my toes and wiggle them, hoping they aren't broken. I cock my head to the right and breath in. I start back on the couch. I am only two steps away. Holding my son in my left arm still. I bend down and put the blanket back. It folds forward, exposing his sheet like a runway. I glide his body down towards it for a soft landing.

"Bang!"

I hit the back of his head on the armrest. "ugh," I say under my breath. I place my hand behind his head, rubbing my hand through his thick hair, massaging his skull. Not a peep.

I finally land him not so quietly in his makeshift bed; I fold the blanket back over his body and tuck him in. I bend down and kiss him on his forehead, then rise up and stare down at him as I hover over him. I can only smile. These are my boys- I think to myself.

I smile at no one. It's about the only time I'll smile. "Too bad no one is around to see it," I mumble. My eyes leave my son, and I glance out the window and stare at my neighbor's outside light. I get lost in the brightness of it as the blackness shrouds the background. I am tired, too, as a yawn escapes from me.

I turn towards my bed, the five-foot couch for my seventy-four-inch body, and make my way to my position to finally close my eyes. I reach out and close the computer, resting on the chair beside my couch. I sit down and use my eyes to look up at the ceiling towards the sky. My stare holds for a moment until I swing my feet up and lay my bones on the couch.

"Ahhh," I let out the air from my chest. I feel so comfortable now. Ready to sleep. I pull the covers up to my neck and lay in my spot until the sandman comes and puts me down.

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© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© copyright 2012. All rights reserved.

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Breathe In and Breathe Out.

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June 28th, 2012

I'm fucking losing it. I am tired, and all I want to do is rest. My emotions are high, and my tension and stress are multiplying. I feel like The Incredible Hulk. My muscles are ready to bulge and tear away my clothing. I just want a break from the norm and a little time to concentrate on my needs. I need a break to escape my reality. I need to escape the dogs, the kids, the house, my MISERY, and the natural world for a while.

I dream of a place that is in harmony with me. Where my ears don't ring, and my head doesn't feel like it wants to explode. I want to breathe in fresh air and not the sadness of my tired soul that surrounds me now. I have to relax and think that it will get better. Think positive. The glass is half-full.

Fuck that. I am pissed off! I want a damn break. I deserve that, just a little. Zoning out doesn't help anymore. I have too much on my plate now that I am back at work. I don't need what's on that damn plate. Put it in a damn bowl of noodles and give me chopsticks so I can feed myself little by little.

Let peace find me, or let me find peace so I can sleep at night. Eat right. And take care of myself. I want to be in sync with a world I perceive is normal because I am not in a usual place. Give me the misery of other people's lives so I may discover again that my world isn't that bad. 

Let me look at the good I have around me and believe that my world will resurrect from the ashes and find its path to getting back on track. Let help reach out from beyond a place that I do not know, without question, and relieve me from my pain. Let me strive to improve, move forward, and return to a race that took me out months ago. I have to help myself to move forward, but I am damn tired and don't want to lift a fucking finger.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe in. And push out. Breathe in. And push out.

Change the quality of the air as it filters out of you. Keep focused and make it better. "You can do this, Chris. You believe in yourself. You have been here before. (I didn't expect to be in the same situation again.)

Understand that you cannot control the things that life blinds you with. Realize the joy that rests beyond your door from where I am sitting through the sounds of cartoons and the giggles of happiness waiting for me. Just control your emotions and pull yourself together.

Piece by piece, Humpty Dumpty can be put back together again. It will just take time.

"Breath and believe that it will be put back together."

Life has a way of working itself out. I don't want to be a hero here. I just want to build a positive place for my boys in a world that will help them more than it has helped me. This is my goal: To change my world to make their world a better place. I must seize the moments of clarity and heal myself before permanent damage consumes my life.

I need more help from my thoughts and temper my emotions with reason. Not in the wrong way, mind you. I need to think clearly and allow the dopamine to give me the energy to make myself more productive.

I breathed and believed that my world would get better and my life would gain traction during this marathon, and I thought I wouldn't have to run again. "Believe in yourself, believe in others, find God and take control. Life has a role for me, and it's time to breathe and play my part."

Just keep telling yourself that, keep breathing, in and out.

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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2012- 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

Hi Mama. Bye Mama

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June 26, 2012

Hi mama. Bye, mama.

And so it goes. Up the street, hi, mama, down the street, bye, mama. The boys know where they can find mommy. It's just down the road, a path we take every day. Everywhere we go. We go with the flow.

Hi mama. Bye, mama.

It always starts the same, the familiar path of the road the boys have become accustomed to. It doesn't matter what we do; we will always pass right on through; regardless of how we travel, mom will always be on their left or their right. She's never too far out of sight.

Hi mama. Bye, mama.

The boys anticipate the car ride. They look on either side as we drive by, seeking a clear view of their mama to be seen through. They eagerly await with no other thought on their plate. They are just waiting for the moment to see their number one visually.

Hi mama. Bye, mama

We are getting closer now; they look at Dad, their pal. Their smiles reach from ear to ear, knowing the time is near. It doesn't matter if it happened before because they know it will happen again. Their mom is just outside our path and will always be there to last, as long as our drive is to pass forever, where she hibernates.

Hi mama. Bye mama

The road is long, and the boy's eagerness overtakes anything their dad can say to calm them down and make them meditate. She's about to pass on our right; the boys can hardly wait as they bounce around in their seats like ants in their pants; their moment seems so sweet. Their mama standing by, I know, to greet her boys, one by one, as she waits for their hugs and squeezes their cheeks. It'll make their day so complete.

Hi mama. Bye mama

Just on the right, we pass the cemetery, her final resting place in sight; my boys know exactly where to look, her final spot high enough to overlook, the very place we will pass right through in our minivan. The car she loved when she took our boys on their fun, never expecting days like this.

Hi mama, Bye mama

We drive right by the cemetery, and I turn to say "hi" and bow my head as my boy's voices are overheard saying, "Hi, mama." the car begins to get some separation as their mom fades off in the distance, the boys look back and together say, "bye mama." but not for too long because we have to drive home and see her again. Another time for my boys to see their mom and tell her how truly missed she is.

Hi mama. Bye, mama.

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Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

An Over Flowed Toilet Creates a Flowing River in the Living Room

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June 24th, 2012

The soothing sound of the river as it works its way through the path it has woven over hundreds of years brings tranquility to my soul. I sit on the banks of the roaring water and take in nature at its best. I observe the clear water, so tempting to drink and watch the world beneath the surface play in the current of the flowing water.

I look beyond the water to the other side of the bank and watch the trees sway. The spray from the river below quenches its thirst as the water mist lays upon the greenery and glistens in the sunlight. The sun's rays gently land on the rocks that aren't under the refuge of the trees, shielding random areas. I bask in its glow, feeling the warmth on my skin while the breeze on my face keeps me calm.

My arms are outreached behind me. Stretched until the elbows are locked. My fingertips claw through the crisscrossing roots of nature's carpet as I weave my fingers through the entangled grass until I reach the cool of the soil. I push my head back, hanging it back until the center of my head is placed evenly between my shoulders.

My legs lay in the softness of the bed of grass. The blades surround my pants, swallowing the material until it is even with the top of my legs. The slight breeze caused the tips of the pieces of grass to dance on my skin. The peace is rushing over me like the cool water over the rocks in the river below.

I am meditating and taking in nature. Closing my weary eyes and enjoying a breath of fresh air.

"Chris!" Chris!". A voice shouts out to me.

Quickly, the river vanishes from my view as light rushes past my eyes. The whole scene is suddenly in reveres, passing me at the speed of light.

"What, huh, what's going on?" I wipe my face after dozing off on the couch.

"The toilets are backing up! The bathroom is flooding, and it is overflowing into the hallway!" my kid's nanny shouts.

I jump from the comfort of my seat. The soft cushions cradling my body slowly returned to its normal flat position. I hear the rush of the water from the open door area of my bathroom as the water runs out from the toilet and bathtub like a waterfall. The discovery of my flooded bathroom takes away any peace the sound of water can give me.

"What the hell happened?" Looking at my nanny, hoping for an answer as I slosh through the water in my hallway. She is stunned, not sure what to say.

I enter the bathroom and discover four inches of water on the floor. The higher it got, the more it spread; like a dam breaking, it quickly made its way out to the house. I immediately look at my boys, watching the horror unfold, smiling at the thrilling rapids escaping throughout the home.

"Here," handing the nanny a bunch of towels. "Save the wood floors. Build a damn with these towels. I'll get the shop vac." I quickly fixed the toilet handle that the kids accidentally locked on the child's baby seat, which made the opening of the toilet bowl smaller so they could sit down and go "potty." It was hooked on the side of the tank, and the handle was caught behind it.

Like a madman on a mission, I rush to the shed to grab the shop vacuum that will suck up the water. I ran to the backyard, and grabbed the vacuum, and ran back inside the house, quickly plugging in the power and using the suction hose to suck up all the water.

The joy of a river in my dreams quickly turned to a trail of sewer in my living room that only Ed Norton could love. I worked the vacuum hose soon like a white water rafting paddle. My boys are enamored with the vacuum that is sucking up the water; they move in for a closer look, not realizing the chaos that they caused. I look back at the other side of the hallway on the banks of the far bedroom and give a scowl. But my boys don't mind me. They are examining a vacuum that they never saw before actually suck up water. Please do not give them any future ideas with this shop vac, Lord.

After I purge all the water out to save this sinking ship, I flush the toilet to ensure it is okay. The water won't flush down. It rises to the brink of freedom edge of the basin. It is clogged by whatever a two- and four-year-old boy decides should be flushed.

The river flows from my bathroom, and it didn't take hundreds of years to find its flow. It took two boys and a daydreaming father to make the river Nile possible.

Just another adventure as the river settles in my living room, leaving me up a creek without a paddle.

https://twitter.com/FusaCmee

Christopher Fusaro. The author of Captain Imperfecto.

© Copyright 2024 Captain Imperfecto, LLC. All rights reserved. This material may not be republished, rewritten or redistributed without permission.  Please contact if you would like to re-publish in film, television or print. 

Also see us at www.captainimperfecto.com

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