Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119454 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 597(@200wpm)___ 478(@250wpm)___ 398(@300wpm)
The house was filthy, in need of a good power wash, but the land it was on was blessed with beautiful, lush grass and mature trees.
“Axel! My boy!” The older man laughed when he got out of his truck and closed the door. Dad went to scratch his knee over his jeans that were far too big for his frame. He went at himself like a host of fleas were performing for some circus on him. From the looks of the man, Dad was drinking himself to death—again.
They’d been down this road before.
Axel reached for a beer can that sat in a cooler beside his father. He glanced at the screen door and could smell food cooking. Dad’s longtime girlfriend, Tammy, had to be in there whipping something up. Probably pork chops.
“I thought you said you were trying to get sober.” Lyin’ son of a bitch…
“And I thought what I do is none of yer beeswax.” Dad removed a can of snuff from the front pocket of his red and black checkered tank top, stared at it as if he needed assurance it was still there, then put it right back.
“You done come down wit’ cancer a few years ago, barely made it, and the doctor said you needed to lay off that booze, and whatever else you like to toss down your throat and shoot in your veins.”
“Well, aren’t you self-righteous? You told me just a few months ago to go fuck myself. Think you’re the big man in town ’cause you been on the fuckin’ news. You prick.” The man laughed, but Axel knew Tommy didn’t find a damn thing funny.
“I’m not here to fiddle and fuss with you. Your mail came to my house again.” He removed the wad of folded letters, mostly bills and what not, and waved them before his father. “Just droppin’ it off.”
“Did Dallas tell ya that I won the lottery?”
Axel tossed the mail down on a nearby swing that was barely hanging on. It landed flat against a grimy yellow pillow with the words, ‘Sunshine Fine,’ sewn across it.
“What lottery, Dad? The one in your head? Bunch of balls rollin’ around in there stuffed with cotton from the land of make-believe?”
His father’s eyes narrowed on him, and he balled his fists up real tight. Suddenly, the screen door slammed open, and there stood Tammy in a frilly pink and white sundress, the woman who waited on his father, hand and foot. A fairly big woman with light brown hair and smiling hazel eyes, she worked at a nursing home giving baths and helping to serve meals. Just taking a few steps had her breathing hard—she had to sleep with one of those machines at night.
Tammy was one of the kindest ladies Axel had ever known. Shame that she’d gotten wrapped up with the likes of Dad. She certainly deserved better.
“Hey, Axel. Nice to see you! You stayin’ for dinner, honey? I’ve got plenty.” She pointed back towards the kitchen.
“Naw, I just came by to—”
“Come on and have a visit, Axel! Stay and eat. You know you should, or Tammy’ll eat it all. Ain’t no food safe around this lady!” He chortled. Axel shot a look at the woman, who even laughed at his father’s tactless words, but a deep pain shone in her eyes now, and her cheeks had darkened undoubtedly from embarrassment. “Have a seat by me, Junior,” his father urged, pointing to the broken-down chair beside him.
“I’m not a Junior.”
“You were!”
“No, I wasn’t.”
He hated when the man pulled this shit. Lie after lie after damn lie. It was like a game of Jinga. Blocks of falsehoods, deceptions, and fabrications. It drove Axel nearly insane. He couldn’t recall one time he’d ever been with his father, in his youth or as an adult, when the man wasn’t exaggerating about something that happened, turning a fallacious story into a reason to brag about himself with false bravado, or outright lying. He’d lied about so much, there was no way he could keep up with it all. Perhaps a spreadsheet would help.
“Your middle name was my first name,” Dad continued, refusing to let the matter go.
“That’s not a Junior. And that’s not what Mama said.”
“Your mama’s word doesn’t mean a damn thing.”
“And your word is about as good as a promissory note written in pissy letters from a rabid dog’s cock sprayed out onto the snow.”
Tammy left in a hurry, softly closing the door behind her.
“Summa uh bitch. You’re not too grown tuh get the fuck smacked out cha.” I dare you. You’ll be eating a dirt sandwich you lay a finger on me. “When you were first born, Junior, you—”
“Your name is Tommy. Stop calling me Junior. I’m not nobody’s junior, and I’m not gonna stand here while you disrespect Mama the way you like to do when you’ve had one too many.”