It's hard to kill one's father

Numerous moral dilemmas typically pop up during my parents' annual two-week stay in California. I often find myself saying things like this: "Mom, stop it. I'll make my own bed," or "Hey, I can do the laundry!"

I guess the parents are just trying to help, but the other day, I was faced with a moral decision that tested me and my role as as a son. My father, the XMan, asked me to kill him.

Philosophically, I am all for the right to die - and die with dignity. But when the XMan bellowed, "Put a pillow over my face now!" I didn't have the heart to do it.You see, everyone in my household has a vicious version of the flu. It knocked me out of two days of school, and that is unheard of. Last year, I missed one day from illness the entire school year.

Anyway, the flu was so rough that the XMan desired a quick, painless death with me smothering him with a pillow. Because I thought there was an outside chance that he'd recover, I opted not to kill him.

I am happy because of my decision. He, and I, are feeling better today, and if I murdered him, I might have regretted it.