sawdust, swanning golfers and the bacon sandwich betrayal
when. yer dad has more nerve than dick tracey
The sun was shining, the birds were singing. A gentle breeze danced across the tops of the green grass.
It was a beautiful day.
And?
And everything was wrong.
Covered in sawdust, I was at the mall. Having spent the morning building a fence, I was looking for food.
The first issue? It was Thursday, not Friday.
The second? My dad was not hanging out with me at the mall.
Sure, I saw some of the old farts that knew him growing up there. But there were no greetings, no mumbled barely decipherable from the thick North End accent.
No.
There were just crowds of people and me.
Alone.
At the mall.
I’d gotten used our tile floor shuffles inside, hiding from the cold winter winds. Me usually leading the charge to the food court, him grumbling good-naturedly behind. Hiding from the cold winter winds was a team sport back then.
Now?
I was alone at the mall waiting in line - a chump, like the rest of the chumps.
Oh sure, I’d been ditching him recently too. I’d spent time working and helping my mother in law in Chunder Bay.
And last week I did ditch him for an epic bike ride.
But that’s my job. I’m supposed to be irresponsible and difficult to reach. His job is to be… well, available! Especially when I’m hungry and there’s a deal on bacon sandwiches.
Who the hell gave him permission to go play golf on a day when I needed someone to buy me lunch?
That man has got a lotta of nerve I tell ya, a lotta nerve. More nerve than Dick Tracey - swanning off for a game of whack fuck while I’m stuck having my toes rolled over by mouth breathers mommies with butterflies where their eyes should be blindly pushing baby carriages while they facetime their baby daddies in the Burnside remand.
If this shit keeps up, I’m going to fill his underpants drawer with fire ants for father’s day.
That’ll teach ‘em.
