Christmas memory

I’m sprawled on the couch, wearing some pyjamas pants, watching football and sipping on a Pepsi.
Pepsi rules!
The game is 24-20 between two division rivals. The Giants versus the Cowboys. One team will make the playoffs the other’s season will end.
Other than the sounds of the match and my occasional yelping, the house is quiet. It’s peaceful and relaxing. Life doesn’t get much better.
Then the door opens. The parents are home. They start clashing around. I try to drown the noise out by turning up the television. It doesn’t work.
Then Jim sits down on my feet. I guess the empty loveseast wasn’t good enough. He grabs the remote and clicks the guide button.
My jaw drops in shock. Am I invisible? Does he not notice that I’m there watching the program on the television?
I guess not. I’m going to have to get his attention, so I wiggle my feet out from underneath him, stand up and give him a soccer-style boot to the face.
His head snaps back and a stream of blood floats up into the air.
He straightens his neck, wipes the blood from his lips and lunges shoulder first into my legs.
My knees buckle and I’m on the ground. He’s got my arms pinned to the soft carpet.
I’m taking punch after punch to the face. I finally give up. Damn I’m a sissy. The remote is his.
Game over.