Dad also read a peer-reviewed journal entry that most mentally ill people smoke and that it is cathartic for them so he is very sympathetic about the whole affair.
I knocked on the door and no one answered so I let myself in with my key. Dad was deeply asleep in his recliner with his "pussy" between his legs. Samantha awoke first and greeted me with a meow which awoke my father.
"What are you doing, bud?" he asked rubbing his eyes.
"I was trying not to wake you, but I am getting my sodas and cigarettes," I told him.
"That reminds me," he said. "I need to get you some more cigarettes tonight."
"I just took the last pack," I said as I stood up after pilfering the coat closet. "Go back to sleep."
"No, let's take your medications while you are here," he said. "Go get the medications out of my Honda."
Dad sleepily doled out my pills as I took them with a swig of a sparkling grapefruit juice drink that was in the fridge. The grapefruit drink was odd, but equally delicious as well.
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