It was July 4, 2000 when Papa finally saw a doctor about a strange bump. The doctor said it was Cancer. "0" excerpt (c)
It was July 4, 2000 when Papa finally saw adoctor about a strange bump on his left side underneath his armpit. Much to my
mother's and grandmother's dismay the doctor said it was Cancer. And he quickly
deteriorated in weeks.
I had a year and a half to go in the army. I was stationed at Fort LeeVirginia . My job was a
grave digger (MORTUARY AFFAIRS). IN
BETWEEN ALCOHOLIC BLACK OUTS AND HANGOVERS, COURTESY OF CAPTAIN MORGAN, COORS,
DEAD GUY ALE, ARROGANT BASTARD ALE AND WHAT EVER ELSE I COULD CONSUME, I KEPT
MY GRANDIOSE EGO Sane Enough to convince my platoon sergeant to send me
to a pre-promotional board for my sergeant stripes. I did the best out of nine
other soldiers in the company. My sergeant was very proud. A week later I came
up on orders for deployment to Kosovo.
I had a year and a half to go in the army. I was stationed at Fort Lee
A
week before I left for Kosovo, my mom called me on the phone in tears
desperately begging me to visit Papa. Therefore, I got on that plane with Vodka
chased with White Zinfandel buzz. Smoked like a dragon in the taxi on the way
to Papa and Grandma’s house. When I got there I was in utter...
BEFORE KATRINA-
The Blow Fly Inn had the
Southern Charm of hospitality with its carpet floors, antique ceiling fans and
lights. Had checkerboard cloth tables perfectly spaced for walking. Had a bar
located center point and was divided by a wall that had rectangular squares in
it where windows could have been. Seemed like from any seat in the place one
could see the bayou. The best place was on the other side of the wall. Oh the
moon’s reflection on Brickyard Bayou is truly a work of God’s beautiful
creation.
The waitresses had been
there for at least two decades. They remember me as a child when my father took
us there on his motor boat. Yea, my father had such good credit with them that
sometimes he didn’t have to pay. He’d always get upset at me for ordering the
same burger most of the time. Used to watch him and my mom get very inebriated.
Morris didn’t drink. He almost reminds me of a jolly Buddha:
always content, not much for words, and only seemed to smile when asked a
question. I reckon a more operative description of him would be a ZEN
SHAPORONE.
YEA-I
chose to change up the frequency to my highness with GooD ol’ boy beer: “the
king of beers” Budweiser. Momma did the classy thing ordering a glass of their
most expensive wine. Elegantly and solemn she proceeded to tell me how Papa’s
ordeal started.
As
she told me the tale, which lasted through me drinking three “good ole’ boys,”
I pondered the irony of my grandfather being the last of a dying breed. A dying
breed of men who built this country. A dying breed that was forced into war to
learn he was dying of Cancer on the 4th of July.
Momma was pacified after the food came by Morris prompting, “it’s gonna get cold dear.” We ate the food in
silence. Due to my buzzed thinking I reasoned eating with my hands. Yea, I
could bring myself tranquility by caveman means. Momma was embarrassed by my
conduct and I could tell by her quick glances-and Morris was shaking his head every few seconds in sly disapproval.
Yea, the waitresses stared in shock as well. Like their eyes were X-rays that
savagely
penetrated my physical
self:
the self-proclaimed
bastard child of a spoiled American Dream. The boy who lost his mind for a few
months as he was awaited in fear of a forced change.
Lost my mind (gave it away)
on hallucinogenic induced Black Majic Rituals in a band that never escaped the
unnamed trailer park . ..
The waitresses knew me as the obedient child who was always
polite and barely spoke a word. A child that dared not to have branding marks
and skull tattoos on his white Anglo Saxon body. Good ol' boys reared by
Cadillac’s, Mercedes driving, two story house having parents didn't dare to do.
Yep, it was like they saw right through my drunken induced macho facade and even knew when i was living in Morris and mom's dilapidated garage apartment. Where for entertainment i watched the wood ants devour the cockroaches on wooden floors that were stained by ash, vomit, and garbage. The boy who could only get employment from temporary job agencies working around crack heads and drunks.
Yea, this bastard of the american dream fit right in with the reprobates. And it only took less than a year to do so.
When momma got up to use the bathroom she would have fallen flat on her face if it wouldn't have been for Sir Morris sneaking a chair in front of her that she grabbed hold of.
Yep, it was like they saw right through my drunken induced macho facade and even knew when i was living in Morris and mom's dilapidated garage apartment. Where for entertainment i watched the wood ants devour the cockroaches on wooden floors that were stained by ash, vomit, and garbage. The boy who could only get employment from temporary job agencies working around crack heads and drunks.
Yea, this bastard of the american dream fit right in with the reprobates. And it only took less than a year to do so.
When momma got up to use the bathroom she would have fallen flat on her face if it wouldn't have been for Sir Morris sneaking a chair in front of her that she grabbed hold of.
__________
Saw the Vision of the “doG” every where. Through seeing the doG I believed GOD TO BE ON MY SIDE. YES, IT WAS AND IS SOMETHING I PICKED UP ON LONG AGO WHILE STUDYING THE WAYS OF TAROT. SPECIFICALLY 0-“the fool.”
Saw the Vision of the “doG” every where. Through seeing the doG I believed GOD TO BE ON MY SIDE. YES, IT WAS AND IS SOMETHING I PICKED UP ON LONG AGO WHILE STUDYING THE WAYS OF TAROT. SPECIFICALLY 0-“the fool.”
The
fool has a stick over his shoulder that has a bag of his belongings on the end
of the stick. He’s got one foot on the ground of a cliff and the other in the
air about to step off into oblivion. He’s got his head turned staring at a doG
jumping on his leg. The foretelling of this card is that you are about to make
a mistake. Or before making a mistake THE DIVINE INTERVENTION OF THE ARCHETYPE
OF GOD IN THE FORM OF A MUTT SAVES YOU.
After
consuming half the pint
…I RETURNED TO my
grandparents house under the first phase of my drunken highness. Under this
first phase I am prone to feel philosophical. Thus, I sat in her rocking chair
and admired my grandma’s miniature white poodle “Buddy.” He was playfully
running around because he was happy to have company. Started throwing one of
his toys in the air. He’d catch it in his teeth, bite down and shake his head
violently like the toy was a piece of bloody flesh. Was very charmed by Buddy
and started remembering
a few of the dogs that had
been in my life.
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