Fatherhood

As my dad always said, fatherhood was God's punishment for his irresponsibility. It's not like he said it once in awhile either. He said it all the time, like coming out of a long yawn, or screaming it just before a cannonball dive into the pool. This was heady stuff for an eight year old. He asked me why I penetrated that egg, and what was I thinking. He believed it was both our fault; he for putting me in that position of being so close to the egg and me for taking advantage of it. Sorry wasn't enough for him at that point.

You can imagine no one wanted to be around him when he got angry either. He would hit us often for things we didn't do, like if the Jets lost. He'd tell us that we were lucky and I would think the Jets were getting a new quarterback, but he meant that he never had a father to hit him. His mother had to do it all. When I got older and stronger, he would hit me with the car. Of course I don't talk to him anymore if you don't count hang-ups.

Where was my mother during all of this? In the closet with her chocolate. She ate like a bird: Three times her weight everyday.