Maudlin Times

Well, I had a huge throw down with my father last night. On top of that I had to fill out a police report on a homeless guy panhandling over at the Kroger. This is why Big S and the gang NEVER panhandle at the Kroger. They are militant about it. You see, I go around nine to buy to my groceries and dad shows up around 9:30 PM to write a check out of my account for the purchase.

As I was waiting, a very drunk and red and bleary eyed fellow came up to me asking me for a few bucks. He was just a drunk wanting some beer or cheap wine. I actually felt sorry for him. I would have given him a fiver if I had it.

“Buddy, you are asking the brokest guy in all of Valley for money,” I replied.

He headed off for anther victim and the manager came up to speak to me.

“Did he just ask you for money?” She asked. “We have had a string of problems with that guy.”

“Yeah, but he was nice about it,” I replied.

Soon, the police arrived and I had to fill out a statement. The police want to know everything about you except the last time you took a dump. I was growing tired of the questions until they finally ended.

Dad came in and met me at the check out line (this is so humiliating.) Dad looked at my eyes and said, “You have been taking something. Haven’t you?” You can’t fool a pharmacist. Otherwise, I was acting normal. You would think the police would have nabbed me if I was acting odd and slurring my speech. Taking Librium to me is akin to taking a placebo.

“I have been saving up the Librium you have been giving me and took seven tonight,” I replied. “I just wanted to feel better. I am fucking miserable with our current arrangement being treated like a child.”

We got outside the grocery store and the shit hit the fan. Dad called a friend to come pick up my car and took my keys away from me. He then drove me home and I unloaded my groceries.

“It is going to take a beer, isn’t it?” He asked.

“Well, I certainly would like one,” I replied.

“Beer is more important than me or your family,” he said.

“Oh, just wait a moment. I voluntarily gave up the drinking and you went off running with it,” I replied. “I drank for years before these latest codlings and you never knew. I and George (Sherman) would have a few every morning as we talked.”

“Go on and get inside and I will go buy you some beer since that is more important to you than your family,” He said.

I waited a few moments and Dad came back with an 18 pack of Miller High Life.

“Here’s your goddamn precious beer,” He said in a huff as he handed me the 18 pack. “You realize I am writing you off from now on.”

“Thank ye gods!” I said aloud as I looked up and outstretched my hands. “Maybe now, I can get a life for a change.”

Dad got in her car and roared out of the driveway. It seems the mortgage payoff was just a ruse to get me into treatment. He is still going to do that. I sat for the rest of the evening reading a book by candlelight and enjoying my cold Miller High Life. It ended up a pleasant evening. Maybe I am a psychopath as well as I feel no remorse over what happened last night. I feel a certain calmness and languidness.