short stories...

..that won't bore thee a short story a day helps you work less and play

Tuesday, March 08, 2005

six inches

'six inches!'
'six inches, i said. didn't i say? didn't i say, six inches?'
yes dad, at least three times and counting. you fucking annoying fucker.
'i told you not to slam it, didnt i? this car's on hire purchase, and you had to go and slam the door. i told you, didn't i tell you?'
christ, give this guy a heart attack and take away my misery. please, lord, please. he's a lapsed catholic anyway, probably wronged more than two thirds of the ten commandments. he doesn't deserve the choir of angels, the pearly gates, the naked sluts (okay maybe the last one's not obligatory).
'even if it was my car, i wouldn't expect you to treat a car like that. oh, i forgot you can't drive. if you had managed to take a few lessons, pass a simple driving test, then maybe you wouldn't slam car doors with such abandon.'
lord, o lord, what have i done to deserve some less than quality time with mein papa, the man who made it all possible. my genes are really from his genes? please make it a hospital mistake.
i'm visiting my long-departed-from-home father. he was booted out of his marital home a good ten years or so ago, and he really hasn't changed that much. sadly for all those that have to share time with the mad fucker. i almost felt for him the day he left, but to be honest, he had been misbehaving for a good couple of decades, so the patience of my mother had been firmly tested when the front door became a revolving one.
'you really are from your mother's side of the family aren't you? you lot, with your gawkiness. are you sure you're mine?' now that hurts, it really does. well, it would do, if i didn't hope, maybe equally so, that it might be true as well. i just wish once in his sixty three years, he could say that he loved me unconditionally, no questions asked, loved my mistakes, loved me for what or who i am. and thought, just for a second, that's my son, the great young man.