The Rugrats: A Short Story

Daddy would always greet me, while I sat at the kitchen table as he had every morning. By this time, I’d be eating a bowl of Lucky Charms, the ones I’d had every morning from the time I was six until sixteen. It was my routine, like it was my Daddy’s routine to give me a knuckle sandwich, which would send my hair straight forward, knocking me off balance. He’d watch me try hard to put every strain of hair back in its place, while I tried hard to keep my attention on the television set. My mornings began the same way every day, wake up, shower, dress, have my favorite bowl of cereal, watch television until it was time for school. If it were the weekend I’d be able to watch television for hours.
Sometimes I’d watch Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, I’d pretend I was front and center and one of the most skilled rangers on the battlefield, which happened to be my backyard. Sometimes I’d watch Rugrats. The Rugrats, which

As a little kid growing up in this time I remember the way my older sister dressed and my older brother dressed. Their outfits would always consist of something baggy or something that had a playful color pallet. I remember my sister and I had matching bomber jackets, that we both hated to wear because we didn’t want to match. I remember my acid washed jeans and the wind breaker jackets my grandmother had worn that smelled of synthetic nylon. I remember my brothers buck hats and snap backs. Most of them had a festive pattern and crazy complementary colors. These hats may not be something he would willingly wear today, but those hats and those colors spoke of the time. It was a time where men and young men could wear different items of clothing, or different colors without being criticized, out casted, or viewed as gay. This is because these types of dress were accepted at that time; it was a part of the culture and movement of the 90’s. And most of the television shows helped promote some of those styles and