Failure Bread

The other day, I was visiting my dad and stepmother at home.  The stepsibs had gone to bed, we had all had a few glasses of wine, and were feeling pretty mellow.

I was making origami figures for my dad; he had complained the shelves in his office were too boring and asked if he could take some of my little crafties in to decorate.  Being the obedient and helpful girl I am, I made him a little bird that flaps its wings, a bird that drinks from a pond, a 3D triangle shape,* and the ever-popular paper crane.

At this point, I’m feeling just a wee bit tipsy, because I am a very cheap date when it comes to alcohol.  So as I set out to make him a waterbomb (an origami figure that inflates and looks like a square-ular balloon), I did the first few folds backwards and when the figure was done, the colored part of the paper was hidden inside instead of being outside.

Thinking it wouldn’t matter, I gave it to Dad anyway.  He looked at it.

“Hey, that’s pretty neat,” he said.  Then, “Wait, it’s inside out!”

“Yeah,” I laughed.  “I goofed it up a little.”

My dad looked at me.  He looked at the little waterbomb.  He looked back at me and then suddenly crushed the figure in his hand while crying:

“THIS IS THE PRICE OF FAILURE!”

I know I should have been pissed, and that’s probably a horrible metaphor for my entire childhood, but at the time I laughed so God damned hard I didn’t care.

*The TriForce, but I didn’t tell Dad that cuz he wouldn’t care.