Tuesday, August 23, 2016

My Uneasy Relationship With The Gods (Part Two)

After that, my dad took up 
Drinking pretty seriously.
Which was a surprise because
Until then, I’d never seen him touch a drop.

But he took to it like a fish to water,
If you’ll pardon the expression,
And it changed him 
Into a different person.

One who wasn’t so nice.

Sometimes, getting home drunk,
He’d rage about the house
And scream terrible threats at me for being
The rotten little scumbag sumbitch etc

Who drove my mother 
To an early death,
And robbed him, HIM!!!
Of his only happiness!

Then he’d curse up a storm
And stagger around the house breaking things.
That’s when I’d lock myself in my room
And wait for Dad to pass out.

Don’t worry. 
He passed out every time.

Funny, even though I was just a kid,
I didn’t really believe my Dad
When he said those things.
I knew it wasn’t him talking.

It was his pain speaking.

But the problem was
My Dad believed it 
When, in his drunken rages,
He called me a scumbag sumbitch etc

Who was entirely to blame 
For my mother’s death,
Robbing him, him, etc, etc.
So sometimes he really scared me.

Then it happened again.
My dad came home 
Drunk and storming!
I woke up afraid and locked my bedroom door,

But he must have gone crazy!
He broke down the door
And walloped me good a few times. 
I hurt my arm when he threw me

To the floor… and I passed out.
The neighbors must have called the cops
Because the cops got there 
About the same time as the ambulance men.

This time the ambulance men 
Took my dad away,
Straightjacketed and lashed
 To a chrome-plated gurney.

He was crying hysterically
And pleading to be set free
As they rolled him 
Toward the ambulance.

“Son! Son!” he called.
“I’m sorry!
Say you’ll forgive me, 

I forgive you, father.
With all my heart.

Do you find it funny,
Ye gods above or below?
Did it give you a moment’s amusement,
You pitiless self-satisfied cannibal bastards,

To turn a gentle, kindly man 
Into a raging beast?

Fuck You!

After the ambulance men
Looked at my arm and my bruises
And said I’d be okay,
I went home with one of the cops.

I heard him say to another cop,
“Aw hell! The kid’s got nowhere to go.
I’ll take him home tonight
And see he gets to court tomorrow.”

“Okay, Joe,” said the other cop.
“God, how I hate these domestic calls.
Well, see you tomorrow.”
"Goodnight, sir,” answered Joe.

On the way to Joe’s house we stopped
At an all-night 7-Eleven 
And he bought me a new T-shirt.
Then we went for a burger and fries.

Boy! Was I hungry!
Joe ordered me a second cheeseburger
And when I said don’t forget the fries
He laughed and asked me where I put it all!

Joe was a nice cop,
With kind eyes 
And a ready smile.

His wife was nice too.
She cleaned me up 
And tucked me in,
Just like a real mother would.

They didn’t have any children
Of their own yet, she explained.
“We’ve been trying to have a baby…
But none has come along.”

She smiled sadly and added,
“It must be god’s will.”

Then she kissed my forehead 
And reminded me 
To say my prayers
Before I went to sleep.

“Okay,” I promised.
And I tried to pray, really I did,
But I couldn’t think of 
Anything to say to god.

A god who stole a wife and mother,
Sent drink to take a father,
Cruelly denied children
To a loving couple,

And laughed 
At the torment 
Of a little boy?

Pray to you?
Do you hear me,
 Ye gods above or below?
You pitiless self-satisfied cannibal bastards!

This is Rusty Pliers speaking!

Fuck You! 

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