But not mighty enough.

In fact, I barely moved it.

I wanted to bust the lock, not the door. I contemplated breaking a window, but that plan involved crawling naked through broken glass, so I went back to work on the lock. I hammered it. I drilled it. I called it really bad names. I did it loudly. I did it directly beneath my sleeping son’s bedroom.

The lock was not going to budge. I was going to have to destroy the door.

There is a certain liberation one feels when it’s obvious that you no longer need to be careful. I adjusted my safety glasses, struck a manly pose, fired up the Sawzall and cut right through the door and deadbolt. I gave the door a Jackie Chan-style love tap, stepped over the splinters and into my shorts.

And when my wife finally stopped laughing, we enjoyed the sounds of sleeping children.


* * * * * * * * * *





In 1986, G.J. Caulkins failed to pass the basic writing exam at UC Davis. He has been pounding the keyboard with an embarrassingly personal level of sincerity ever since. Upon graduation, he gave up playing bari sax with the Cal Aggie Marching Band-uh! in favor of the more challenging roles of husband and father.

He remains in Davis with his wife and two sons. A consummate dilettante, he is a published cartoonist, an illustrator, a writer, and he holds down a regular job. His cartoons, writing and other “work” can be found at www.mightywombat.com.