It's is sort of like heaven and hell. You know, sitting there at the table with the family. Mom, dad, sister, uncles and aunts. All of us sitting around this massive feast of food that none of us will ever be able to complete. Its not like mom would even allow left overs in the fridge anyway. She'll just throw all the food out. You know I never realized how good I had it until I went to New Orleans to help with the victims of Hurricane Katrina.
It was hell out there. It stank of blood, death, and water. You know we usually think of water as being clean, but when it hits something dirty, or dying it stinks. Water can stink worse than you can imagine. The same water that you use to wash with, cant wash away some things. I don’t even know where to begin, how do I describe the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. What happen to those people just wasn’t right. I'm not one for politics, but all I know is that’s not how people are supposed to live in the United States. The Tv didn’t even scratch the surface. I never went inside the super dome, but I heard the stories. The worst of nature seems to bring out the worst of man.
People did what they could to survive, who was helping them? It seemed like even God turned his back on New Orleans. The cops were shooting unarmed civilians, even the mentally ill where at risk of being killed by the police. It seemed like whatever the water didn’t wash away, the police where there to clean up.
Whats even worse, the city was in need before the water came, the water just washed away all the glitz and glam of New Orleans and showed what was really going on. It laid everything out in the sun. The world saw the weakest and poorest of America. The hungry, the tired, and huddled masses on roof tops begging for help from the American government. People died of hunger, people died of exhaustion, people just died. And for the ones that weren’t so fortunate as to die, the rest were left homeless jobless, broke but still in debt.
And here I am sitting here in a house big enough to comfortably fit five families with enough food to feed at least fifty people. This would be heaven. But for me its just another extension of hell. Its worse than hell. To see your own family as evil, to see your own blessing as a curse. Why do we deserve to live the way we do, while others doesn’t even have a clean shirt to put on? What makes us any better than all those people that drowned?
Has my family even given a dime to help out. Do they even care? It is people like my family that make the poor hate the rich so much. We live in a heaven like state unaware that so many are without and are suffering, they are suffering for unknown and invisible sins.
What makes me worthy of eating this food? What makes the trash can worthy of receiving the food left over from tonight's thanksgiving celebration? Is this really showing thanks? Stuffing our faces until we pass out, while others pass out from hunger.
I got up from my seat abruptly, it shook most of the table. The whole family looked at me wildly. I could see my ever stern father looking at me as if I was from another planet. “Go to hell, all of you!.”
Saturday, December 11, 2010
For the love of money
Dave doesn’t really know Tom all that well. He's a nice guy, keeps to himself mostly. Had a cook out when he first moved in about three years ago, been having an annual cook out around the same time ever since. In Dave's eyes Tom was an okay guy, that’s the reason he came up with the idea of them carpooling to DC. Traffic was brutal in Virginia, the morning rush could cause Dave to spend two extra hours in traffic. It was starting to effect his mood, and his performance at work. The HOV lane was always so empty.
That and the fact that Dave had more morals than to buy a blow up doll to stick in the back seat, how would he even begin explain that to his wife? It had been more than three months since Dave started carpooling with Tom, and Tom didn’t show any behavior that would make Dave think anything abnormal was going on. Then Tom started showing up in the morning with marks on his neck, and sometimes his face. At first Dave brushed it off, for one it was none of his business, and Tom never said anything, even though he had to know they were noticeable. And second, well Tom did have a dog, so it easily could have been rough play, or rough play with the wife for all Dave knew. And that was something he didn’t want to get into. What a man and a woman did behind closed doors in the privacy and sanctity of their bedroom was their business as far as Dave was concerned. He wouldn’t like it if people started asking him about him and his wife’s sexual life, not that they had one.
But, there was something about the marks on Tom's face. It wasn’t every day that he had scratches on his face, Dave chuckled to himself one day as they drove down the highway towards Washington DC. He couldn’t hide his amusement as he observed fresh marks on Toms face. He could only imagine what his back looked like.
“Whats so funny Dave?” Tom asked with a smile of his own. Clearly anticipating the joke he thought was on Dave's mind.
“Ah, well..” Dave started, unsure if to really tell Tom what had made him laugh. “I know its none of my business, and you are right to tell me so, we can drop it, but I just been noticing the marks on your face, looks like you got a fresh pair this morning. Reminds me of me and my wife when we was younger.” Dave gently nudged Tom with his elbow to reinforce his playful nature and slight admiration of Tom's love life with his wife. “Those were the days..” Dave trailed off shaking his head with a smile.
“Oh.” Tom said suddenly and looked blankly out his passenger side window.
Dave noticing this spoke again. “No need to be embarrassed, like I said, none of my business really.” Dave said chuckling, still trying to feel out Tom's reaction. Silence crept into the car and Dave cursed himself for being nosy. The two men traveled for another ten minutes until Dave started to hear the unmistakable sound of sobbing.
“Uh..Tom.” Dave didn’t know what to do. One minute they are talking about sex, albeit private stuff but nothing to..
“She's hitting me!” Tom blurted out. The weight of his revelation seeming to force more anger than anything from his voice. “She is hitting me, scratching me! When she gets drunk, and she gets angry, she just has to have her way. That’s the way she was raised, daddy's little princess!” Tom slammed his fist against the car door.
Dave was frozen into his seat. He started straight out in front of him unsure of what to do, besides focus on his driving. Jenny abusing Tom? He couldn’t believe it. She was always miss social, laughing and smiling, the center of attention. But behind close doors, people can turn ugly. And the marks on Toms face were obviously done by some long nails.
“Well..” Dave was at a lost for words.
“And of course if I hit her back she will get “daddy” involved and there goes the house and my job. What a fuckin idiot I am. Working in the firm where her father is partner. I deserve it, I fuckin deserve it. Bitch doesn’t work, doesn’t cook, just sits around the house all day waiting for me to come home and fuck her, wont even let me do that half the time!”
Dave let Tom vent his frustration, though in the back of his mind he couldnt help but to think of the movie scare face, when Tony Montana married the beautiful trophy wife just to find out she was a glorified bum.
“But I got something for her! I'll fix her ass real good?” Tom said with deep vitriol
“Divorce her?” Dave saying, and at the same time suggesting the only logical thing that came to his mind.
“And lose everything? Are you crazy? That crazy bitch can take a chunk out of me for breakfast everyday for all I care! I'm waiting for that old man to kick the bucket! Then the firm will be mine and I can ship her off to some island where she can fuck natives all day. Once I get my hands on the money, fuck her!” Tom growled until his frown slowly turned into a ironic smile. “Fuck her.” her repeated laughing. “Fuck her, I'll get the last laugh.” Tom smirked. “Crazy Bitch.”
Dave shook his head and looked outside the window, without thinking or looking he dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He pushed the button 2 on his phone and pushed dial. The phone rang and his wife picked up the phone, already at work.
“Dave?”
“Honey?”
“Yes..” came her slow reply. It had been years since he last called her that.
“I love you, lets go out for dinner tonight.”
That and the fact that Dave had more morals than to buy a blow up doll to stick in the back seat, how would he even begin explain that to his wife? It had been more than three months since Dave started carpooling with Tom, and Tom didn’t show any behavior that would make Dave think anything abnormal was going on. Then Tom started showing up in the morning with marks on his neck, and sometimes his face. At first Dave brushed it off, for one it was none of his business, and Tom never said anything, even though he had to know they were noticeable. And second, well Tom did have a dog, so it easily could have been rough play, or rough play with the wife for all Dave knew. And that was something he didn’t want to get into. What a man and a woman did behind closed doors in the privacy and sanctity of their bedroom was their business as far as Dave was concerned. He wouldn’t like it if people started asking him about him and his wife’s sexual life, not that they had one.
But, there was something about the marks on Tom's face. It wasn’t every day that he had scratches on his face, Dave chuckled to himself one day as they drove down the highway towards Washington DC. He couldn’t hide his amusement as he observed fresh marks on Toms face. He could only imagine what his back looked like.
“Whats so funny Dave?” Tom asked with a smile of his own. Clearly anticipating the joke he thought was on Dave's mind.
“Ah, well..” Dave started, unsure if to really tell Tom what had made him laugh. “I know its none of my business, and you are right to tell me so, we can drop it, but I just been noticing the marks on your face, looks like you got a fresh pair this morning. Reminds me of me and my wife when we was younger.” Dave gently nudged Tom with his elbow to reinforce his playful nature and slight admiration of Tom's love life with his wife. “Those were the days..” Dave trailed off shaking his head with a smile.
“Oh.” Tom said suddenly and looked blankly out his passenger side window.
Dave noticing this spoke again. “No need to be embarrassed, like I said, none of my business really.” Dave said chuckling, still trying to feel out Tom's reaction. Silence crept into the car and Dave cursed himself for being nosy. The two men traveled for another ten minutes until Dave started to hear the unmistakable sound of sobbing.
“Uh..Tom.” Dave didn’t know what to do. One minute they are talking about sex, albeit private stuff but nothing to..
“She's hitting me!” Tom blurted out. The weight of his revelation seeming to force more anger than anything from his voice. “She is hitting me, scratching me! When she gets drunk, and she gets angry, she just has to have her way. That’s the way she was raised, daddy's little princess!” Tom slammed his fist against the car door.
Dave was frozen into his seat. He started straight out in front of him unsure of what to do, besides focus on his driving. Jenny abusing Tom? He couldn’t believe it. She was always miss social, laughing and smiling, the center of attention. But behind close doors, people can turn ugly. And the marks on Toms face were obviously done by some long nails.
“Well..” Dave was at a lost for words.
“And of course if I hit her back she will get “daddy” involved and there goes the house and my job. What a fuckin idiot I am. Working in the firm where her father is partner. I deserve it, I fuckin deserve it. Bitch doesn’t work, doesn’t cook, just sits around the house all day waiting for me to come home and fuck her, wont even let me do that half the time!”
Dave let Tom vent his frustration, though in the back of his mind he couldnt help but to think of the movie scare face, when Tony Montana married the beautiful trophy wife just to find out she was a glorified bum.
“But I got something for her! I'll fix her ass real good?” Tom said with deep vitriol
“Divorce her?” Dave saying, and at the same time suggesting the only logical thing that came to his mind.
“And lose everything? Are you crazy? That crazy bitch can take a chunk out of me for breakfast everyday for all I care! I'm waiting for that old man to kick the bucket! Then the firm will be mine and I can ship her off to some island where she can fuck natives all day. Once I get my hands on the money, fuck her!” Tom growled until his frown slowly turned into a ironic smile. “Fuck her.” her repeated laughing. “Fuck her, I'll get the last laugh.” Tom smirked. “Crazy Bitch.”
Dave shook his head and looked outside the window, without thinking or looking he dug into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He pushed the button 2 on his phone and pushed dial. The phone rang and his wife picked up the phone, already at work.
“Dave?”
“Honey?”
“Yes..” came her slow reply. It had been years since he last called her that.
“I love you, lets go out for dinner tonight.”
Monday, December 6, 2010
Ed's revenge
Was it ever worth it? At what point did it stop being worth it? When he missed his daughter being born? Maybe missing out on her first words, her growing up. How many times had he held his daughter when she was a baby. His wife was right. Its almost as if she isn’t even married to him, he might as well not even be a father.
She had cut him hard with those words. He could almost smell the alcoholic he would need to wash down her words. Might as well not even be married to him, what was that supposed to mean? So, his job took him away from his family, but he had to support them. It wasn’t like he wasn’t working. Gah, what did that woman want from him anyway? Might as well not even be married to him? Well then she might as well not even be cashing his checks, and spending his money. Damn her!
Ed slammed the empty glass down. The bartender looked at him out the corner of his eye. Even in his intoxication Ed noticed everything, it was his job to be observant. “I'm a cop!” he exclaimed at the bartender as if his title fully excused his behavior. Yet it was that very same title that kept him away from his family the most. It was the reason his wife argued with him so much. He used to think couples just fought over money but now it seems like they can argue over anything. And yet, its really about nothing, its really just about Ed not being at home.
But, he didn’t expect his wife to ask for a divorce. Its not like he was cheating on her, mistreating her. Why was she being so selfish. The words had hurt, but the paper had hurt more. It was just a simple piece of white paper he found on the kitchen table after coming home from a late night shift.
“I want a divorce.” The paper read.
Well, at least she had been honest enough to let him know. He snorted sarcastic. Then the rage came and he pounded his fist loudly on the kitchen counter. A single tear fell down his cheek.
What had his life come down to? Waking up everyday going to work for long hours to make a check and to support his family that seemed not even to love him. It was his family dammit! It was his! Why didn’t they love him? He deserved love.
What would he do without his family. His wife didn’t work, but he had no doubt that she would take the kids. That’s how the law system works in this dammed country, the women always get the kids, always. She would have to be on crack or something for him to get the kids back. He looked around the empty bar with slow blinks.
“I cant let her take my life from me. My family is all I have, its all I am living for.” he spoke to himself
And for a moment Ed saw himself ten years from now living in a small apartment, and old fat cop doing the same thing he had been doing for nearly 30 years. Just working to work, just living to work. No family no daughter no wife. He couldn’t bare the thought. Every night watching tv until he passes out. What happen? Was all the training and the work even worth it? He made himself this life just to support a family. What went wrong? Ed slowly and carefully got got down from the bar stool. The bartender silently watched him as he made his way to the door.
“Hey you're not driving home are you?”
“I'm a cop.” Ed yelled back over his shoulder dismissively waving his hand as if his title justified anything.
Ed got into his car and opened the glove box. There in his car was one of his guns. He closed his eyes hard as his hands reached for the gun. He opened his eyes and smiled at the gun, kissed it. This would be his revenge against his wife. His family wouldn’t be taken from him, he would leave his family before they could be taken. He wouldn’t be some alone old far away shadow of a man. This would be Ed's revenge.
Ed placed the gun in his mouth,and with tears rolling down his cheeks he muttered his daughters name.
She had cut him hard with those words. He could almost smell the alcoholic he would need to wash down her words. Might as well not even be married to him, what was that supposed to mean? So, his job took him away from his family, but he had to support them. It wasn’t like he wasn’t working. Gah, what did that woman want from him anyway? Might as well not even be married to him? Well then she might as well not even be cashing his checks, and spending his money. Damn her!
Ed slammed the empty glass down. The bartender looked at him out the corner of his eye. Even in his intoxication Ed noticed everything, it was his job to be observant. “I'm a cop!” he exclaimed at the bartender as if his title fully excused his behavior. Yet it was that very same title that kept him away from his family the most. It was the reason his wife argued with him so much. He used to think couples just fought over money but now it seems like they can argue over anything. And yet, its really about nothing, its really just about Ed not being at home.
But, he didn’t expect his wife to ask for a divorce. Its not like he was cheating on her, mistreating her. Why was she being so selfish. The words had hurt, but the paper had hurt more. It was just a simple piece of white paper he found on the kitchen table after coming home from a late night shift.
“I want a divorce.” The paper read.
Well, at least she had been honest enough to let him know. He snorted sarcastic. Then the rage came and he pounded his fist loudly on the kitchen counter. A single tear fell down his cheek.
What had his life come down to? Waking up everyday going to work for long hours to make a check and to support his family that seemed not even to love him. It was his family dammit! It was his! Why didn’t they love him? He deserved love.
What would he do without his family. His wife didn’t work, but he had no doubt that she would take the kids. That’s how the law system works in this dammed country, the women always get the kids, always. She would have to be on crack or something for him to get the kids back. He looked around the empty bar with slow blinks.
“I cant let her take my life from me. My family is all I have, its all I am living for.” he spoke to himself
And for a moment Ed saw himself ten years from now living in a small apartment, and old fat cop doing the same thing he had been doing for nearly 30 years. Just working to work, just living to work. No family no daughter no wife. He couldn’t bare the thought. Every night watching tv until he passes out. What happen? Was all the training and the work even worth it? He made himself this life just to support a family. What went wrong? Ed slowly and carefully got got down from the bar stool. The bartender silently watched him as he made his way to the door.
“Hey you're not driving home are you?”
“I'm a cop.” Ed yelled back over his shoulder dismissively waving his hand as if his title justified anything.
Ed got into his car and opened the glove box. There in his car was one of his guns. He closed his eyes hard as his hands reached for the gun. He opened his eyes and smiled at the gun, kissed it. This would be his revenge against his wife. His family wouldn’t be taken from him, he would leave his family before they could be taken. He wouldn’t be some alone old far away shadow of a man. This would be Ed's revenge.
Ed placed the gun in his mouth,and with tears rolling down his cheeks he muttered his daughters name.
Unconventional toy
It just didn’t make sense anymore, trying to surprise kids with gifts. The way Bill saw it, kids know what they want, and whats more they know how to tell you what they want. For better or worse they knew the name of the toy, where to find it, and in most cases they knew how much it cost.
They knew everything, except of course the value of the money they eagerly wanted you to spend. Bill would have shook his head as he entered the toy store with his granddaughter, but he was getting too old to show much emotion these days. He let his eyes do his talking. Disappointment was spread all over his eyes. He loved his granddaughter, that went without saying. He was happy to be her grandfather, he relished the position, but why where kids so damn materialistic?
Bill's son hadn't been like that. But then that had been a different generation. Different times. The economy was in a mess, and people understood you just couldn’t buy everything under the sun. Now a days people are actually trying to buy the sun.
“Over here grandad, its over here.” the little girl tugged at Bill's arm Bill snapped out of his mental rantings. His eyes betrayed his confusion, as he was being lead over to the sports section of the store. He looked in vain over to the girl section of the store, he could see the barbies just vaguely. Oh goodness he thought to himself quickly. She wants me to buy her a bike. He thought of his granddaughter riding down the street in a small pink and white bike with the pink frilly ribbons coming out the handle. Yes, she would be cute no doubt, but how much would it cost him. He silently cursed consumerism.
“I want this!” she pointed to a skateboard high above her head. This time Bills confusion shown on his face. A skateboard, what is an eight year old girl going to do with a skateboard?
“You know we are getting gifts for you, sweet pea, your brother has already picked out gifts for himself.”
The little girl laughed. “I know granpa.” she playfully nudged into him. “I want the skateboard for myself. Bill looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what he saw. A girl, a little girl at that, wanting a skateboard. Why those are the things the teenage punks ride on as they destroy property and spray paint objectionable things on public property. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he visualized his daughter riding a skateboard and vandalizing property. Come to think of it, has he ever seen a girl skateboarding?
“Its so cool.” the little girl added, clearly lost in her own imagination.
“Well sweetpea, what about the dolls and...” Bill started
“I dont want any dolls, I dont like dolls. I like this. Please Granpa, you said I could pick out anything I wanted. And I want this skateboard.” Bill was upset, but anyone looking at him would never know it. What kind of girl is his son raising. It must be that women, it has to be. He told his son not to...
“Will you get it for me granpa?” She reached up for the toy.
They knew everything, except of course the value of the money they eagerly wanted you to spend. Bill would have shook his head as he entered the toy store with his granddaughter, but he was getting too old to show much emotion these days. He let his eyes do his talking. Disappointment was spread all over his eyes. He loved his granddaughter, that went without saying. He was happy to be her grandfather, he relished the position, but why where kids so damn materialistic?
Bill's son hadn't been like that. But then that had been a different generation. Different times. The economy was in a mess, and people understood you just couldn’t buy everything under the sun. Now a days people are actually trying to buy the sun.
“Over here grandad, its over here.” the little girl tugged at Bill's arm Bill snapped out of his mental rantings. His eyes betrayed his confusion, as he was being lead over to the sports section of the store. He looked in vain over to the girl section of the store, he could see the barbies just vaguely. Oh goodness he thought to himself quickly. She wants me to buy her a bike. He thought of his granddaughter riding down the street in a small pink and white bike with the pink frilly ribbons coming out the handle. Yes, she would be cute no doubt, but how much would it cost him. He silently cursed consumerism.
“I want this!” she pointed to a skateboard high above her head. This time Bills confusion shown on his face. A skateboard, what is an eight year old girl going to do with a skateboard?
“You know we are getting gifts for you, sweet pea, your brother has already picked out gifts for himself.”
The little girl laughed. “I know granpa.” she playfully nudged into him. “I want the skateboard for myself. Bill looked around to see if anyone else was seeing what he saw. A girl, a little girl at that, wanting a skateboard. Why those are the things the teenage punks ride on as they destroy property and spray paint objectionable things on public property. He closed his eyes for a brief moment as he visualized his daughter riding a skateboard and vandalizing property. Come to think of it, has he ever seen a girl skateboarding?
“Its so cool.” the little girl added, clearly lost in her own imagination.
“Well sweetpea, what about the dolls and...” Bill started
“I dont want any dolls, I dont like dolls. I like this. Please Granpa, you said I could pick out anything I wanted. And I want this skateboard.” Bill was upset, but anyone looking at him would never know it. What kind of girl is his son raising. It must be that women, it has to be. He told his son not to...
“Will you get it for me granpa?” She reached up for the toy.
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