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  • Ana Vidosavljević

My Dad's Makeup: Ana Vidosavljević

Ana Vidosavljevic from Serbia is currently living in Indonesia. She has her work published or forthcoming in Down in the Dirt (Scar Publications), Literary Yard, RYL (Refresh Your Life), The Caterpillar, The Curlew, Eskimo Pie, Coldnoon, Perspectives, Indiana Voice Journal, The Raven Chronicles, Setu Bilingual Journal, Foliate Oak Literary Magazine, Quail Bell Magazine, Madcap Review, The Bookends Review, Gimmick Press, (mac)ro(mic), Scarlet Leaf Review, Adelaide Literary Magazine, A New Ulster and many others. Her collection of short stories Mermaids will be published by Adelaide Books in September 2019, and a memoir Flower Thieves will be published by the same publishing house in April 2020.


My Dad’s Makeup

My sister and I were good children. Well, not always. We had our moments of mischief that we enjoyed

so much. However, our victims didn’t like those moments at all.

Our father loved napping on the couch in the living room while pretending he was watching TV. He

would start watching TV, of course, but the afternoon lazy shades would easily creep inside the living

room and overcome him, leading him to the world of dreams and snoring. That was our chance to grab

the remote and change the TV channel. Dad often watched some boring news broadcasting the

happenings of the day and my sister and I preferred cartoons, animal world channels and music


However, that particular Sunday, when our dad fell asleep on his couch and started snoring loudly, no

channel could keep us entertained. And we came up with the spectacular idea. Why didn’t we put

makeup on our dad’s face?! I know! It sounded quite thrilling and exciting that both my sister and I got

goosebumps from all that excitement.

Our mother was not at home, but we didn’t know when she would come back from her Sunday

neighborhood visiting, and therefore, we couldn’t waste time. We took her makeup set and hurried to

complete our task. We both were struggling not to laugh loudly since we didn’t want to wake up our


We carefully applied a mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, lipstick, cheek powder blush, powder cream and

on the top of his head, we tightened his curls with pink ribbon. When our masterpiece was finished, we

hurried to hide far away from the living room but close enough to watch what would happen next.

After fifteen minutes of napping our father woke up, realized he didn’t have cigarettes left, and rushed

outside heading to the shop across the street. Still heavy-eyed and groggy, he was not aware how he

looked like. He didn’t notice his complete head transformation. My sister and I were hiding behind the

tool shed door in the garden from where we could clearly see him walking down the yard and going

outside. And we burst with laughter. We were not the only one to cackle with glee. Passers-by and the

shop worker were dissolving into laughter. My father’s hilarious appearance enraptured many of our

neighbors that afternoon and many people laughed so hard that their stomachs hurt. The only person

who didn’t find the whole situation funny was my father. He rushed back to the house and looked

himself in the mirror. Shocked and angry, he started yelling calling my sister’s and my name.

My sister and I hid inside the tool shed and locked the door from inside. But we couldn’t stop laughing.

When our father heard us, he came closer and told us to immediately come outside. But we disobeyed

afraid of punishment.

Finally, our dad gave up of waiting for the two of us to come out. He went to the house. My sister and I

remained locked in the tool shed another one hour. But when the night fell, we had no choice but to

leave our safe haven. It was too dark in the tool shed and we were afraid to stay there during the night.

Plus, we were hungry.

Our father was not at home and we felt relieved. That night, my sister and I had an early dinner and

rushed to go to bed afraid to face our dad. However, as he had always done, when he came back home

that night, he came to our room to turn off the light that my sister always kept on afraid to fall asleep in the dark, he tucked us in and whispered “good night”. I was not sleeping but I pretended I was just to make sure. But I knew that there would be no serious punishment waiting for us the next day.

However, the next day we had to help our father repair the fence and finish few other house chores. We

didn’t mind at all. It was the best punishment ever.


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The image of Quasimodo is by French artist Louis Steinheil, which appeared in  the 1844 edition of Victor Hugo's "Notre-Dame de Paris" published by Perrotin of Paris.


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