Here is a sample from an audiobook I previously completed.
Middle Aged (35-54)
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Ricky. The house is quiet when I walk in I think I may have some time alone, but then I hear a rattle in the kitchen Brenda. It's me dad. I walk into the kitchen, dad standing by the open refrigerator making sandwiches and stuffing them into a cooler. His beer belly and six ft even height make bending over hard for him. And he grunts as he drops the wrapped sandwiches on top of the six packs. He has an open beer can next to his arm and his hunting rifle is leaning against the counter. Where's mom still at work? I guess. He throws a couple of apples into the cooler. Where are you going? I stay standing in the doorway camping, he grunts in close to the refrigerator, camping with the rifle. Sure he and his stupid friends are probably going to try illegally hunting a few deer and spend the rest of the time getting smashed. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He turns to look at me, his eyes are narrowed. What are you making that face for? Nothing I say I'll be gone for a few days. He closes the cooler and turns to look at me. He looks taller like that when he's looking down at me menacing overbearing. I feel his eyes burning into the side of my face. He picks up the rifle and swings it toward me. The barrel touches underneath my chin and he uses it to turn my head to face him. You hear me boy, this is so ****** up but I can't say I'm surprised my body tries to start trembling. I lock my muscles in place and hold my chin up. These kinds of fear tactics aren't out of the ordinary for him. I don't know why. It still gets to me. He holds the gun unmoving, Breaking every gun safety rule. I know sometimes. I wonder if he even has a license to own that thing. Yes, I say tell your mother, I'll be back sunday. Okay. I agree. He lowers the rifle and I relax. A pickup truck pulls up outside. Dad's friends are crammed inside the back of the truck is loaded with cases of beer. I wish for an accident, a fatal one, behave yourself. He picks up the cooler and walks out the door. I hear him greet his friends loudly and I listened to the door slam shut, followed by the loud rattling of the old muffler. As the truck speeds off, he's probably telling his buddy he can fix that up for free. The house is quiet now. Finally peace