So did his kids.What was he supposed to do with them? Tell them good job for making him angry? No, they were misbehaving if they made him angry. He had to show them what they should do and should not do. His dad had used a leather belt on him; it was readily available to him. They needed to feel just how angry they made him. They shouldn’t be talking so much, or watching the TV so loud, or watching shows he didn’t like, or slurping when they ate.He knew Sharon went easy on them in her house, and it made him angry. They needed a firm hand, they needed to be taught to mind. Growing up wasn’t supposed to be all about having fun and giggles, especially not when they were doing it loudly and annoying him. You are supposed to fear your parents; it said so in the Bible. You are supposed to honor them; his children didn’t honor him and they often didn’t fear him enough. They didn’t fear Sharon either, because she was too easy on them.Once he had them back in his control, he could teach them. I was tired of living off berries and rodents, and this was a welcome respite from the usual. I had made arrows and fashioned a makeshift bow that needed regular repair, but was good for a few awkward shots. My aim was true, and I struck the deer on the first try and though it was not a fatal shot, it was good enough to wound the deer until I could get to it. But as I was making my way over to my catch, I saw a flash of orange and my dear old feline friend was making off with my potential dinner. I watched as the deer put up vague signs of struggle before going limp and being dragged off by the tiger, much like I had been that fateful day. I gave chase to the tiger, I wasn’t about to let it exercise power over me yet again. It was slowed with the effort of dragging along a huge deer, but its advantage over me was that it could move over the forest floor much more easily. This was home for that tiger, whereas I stumbled and clambered over rocks and brush despite spending a fair amount.
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