Getting his drunk on..

     Another Friday night shaping up as they always had... He was late, and mother insisted that I track his worthless a*s down. It was quiet common at this point, so much that even the bar keep expected to see me roll in past the front door. Just like clock work, a large soda sat on the bar, and a bowl of snacks, popcorn, pretzels, peanuts, always stale.. He said nothing, some how he knew how having to retrieve my drunk father, week after week affected the mind of this twelve year old. Even at such a young age, I had the feeling that I was surrendering my dignity. Letting both of them, him and my mother kick the s**t out of my self esteem.

     I watched the prick sitting there, slouching over and drowning in his ninth or tenth bottle of Budweiser. His head impregnated with caustic thoughts, and anger issues, never fully addressed. Him, and all the other drunks with their cherry red noses, glaring at me, over the rim of a raise glass. I knew the look of disappointment that filled his eyes. Almost always, the look from those glances turned to resentment.

     I watched as my father pushed a few dollars across the bar, over paying for a watered down glass of flat soda. Somehow I was sure the bar keep knew the inside of his wallet by now. Every week the same results, a week’s worth of hard earned cash laid at the bottom of a half drawn glass. I remember the first time I saw it happen, I was about ten years old. The bar keep with a slight of hand, charged my well oiled father 10 bucks for a bottle of Schlitz. What the hell did I know, I was ten. Looking back now, I know he stole both my father’s money and his dignity. Mother would cry when he handed over his pay check, always a hundred and fifty, to two bills short, and barely enough to put food on the table.

     Anyway, the old man always a charmer around his buddies, heaped praise and threw a few dollars my way. However as we passed out the side door, his hand would go out, demanding that I return the money, followed by a stiff slap to the back of my head. His hard breath preaching in an angry retort, how children should never come looking in bars.

     Behind the wheel, he would slouch in a drunken state; unable to even shift the car into gear. After minutes of hopeless trying, his failure became my punishment. My wrong doing always followed by a slap. I would own his failure, telling him what he wanted to hear. “I sorry dad, for disappointing you once again”.

     I learned to drive by the time I was eleven. Sitting high up on a pillow, just barely able to reach the pedal, it never stopped him from passing me the keys. The back roads were my best friends, no onward coming cars, even roadways, no hills, no stop signs. I was pulled over once, at thirteen, the cop a friend of the old man's let us go. I am sure he felt sorry for me after seeing him propped up against the passenger window, to drunk to drive, covered in puke, and reeking of alcohol. He shook his head in disgust, and followed me home. On many occasions, I saw the glint of bubble lights tailing far behind me, dropping off at the end of my street. I looked upon that Officer with such regard. I wish he was alive today, I would shake his hand, and thank him for watching over me.

     Inside, all hell would break loose.. He would become verbal, then abusive, not only to those who clung tight to the table stammering in fear, but my mother. It was always the same, she would whisk him off to bed, trying to appease his anger. First a coddling, followed closely by an argument. Never one to let things alone, she would push, and he would push back. A slap across her face, and a faint weeping. I was powerless to stop it.

    He was always a mean motherfucking drunk.

Reviews

[Inyourshadow]

My father was a drinker and a gambler but never violent then one day he just quit drinking threw his smokes on the fire and found religion never asked why only know he knows all I do know is he never back slid and the only gambling is his £1 lottery ticket. So much pain in this piece glad I never knew it and that you never felt the need to follow suit. Keep em' coming

[cartera]

Painful memories evoked by your story.
A story well-told, with just the right amount of description. I woulod like to see it in the present active tense.
ATB
Alex.

[Robin]

story-telling served straight up ... every word felt , every image boldly presented upon this memoryscape ..

[Poetic Beauty]

This story tells a tale that far too many people in this world know first hand. I felt as if I was riding with the kid as he drove his drunk father home. Probably the smartest decision was for the kid to learn to drive. The story line kept my attention and details allowed me to picture this scene in my minds.

[Brad]

loved the grit and blunt of this tremendously

[MissThomas]

I really liked this, it was incredibly touching. The little details were the ones that had me and it flowed nicely.

[E.H. Monroe]

Sometime, you realize that other savage writing monsters are like that because of past similarities.
Poppa Monroe was a slugger as well. Strangely, and eerily enough, We had to pick him up in a similar state because Momma Monroe "loved him."
He loved her too, with every last swing.
This was a black and white mirror and I feel for ya. This was that ugly truth I look for, that scarred for life, steel toe romper stomper that if you've been there you're stronger for it and if you haven't you feel bad for it.
We know better. We kill it and use it to shoot fire.

That's what I'm f*****g talking about.

Hoohah

[Deviant Works]

Well... This story got right under my skin and had me balling my fists, clenching my teeth, furious with the fathers I know to be this way. It infuriates me and yet I also understand that many who prey upon the weak, the innocent have been victims themselves. Alcohol only seems to project our inner demons. The reality of this piece is profound, bringing into light memories I don't wish to recall. Yet again another brilliant write, G. Perhaps I can unlock my jaw now, slow my pounding heart...

[Christie Moses]

heartbreaking..... :(
I know this story well, as I have been there myself. It's painful.