#all rick does is buy ava's love and i respect him for it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aleatoryalarmalligator · 7 years ago

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Life Story Part 78

The neighbor dad next door liked to drink every night – often in packs of other men just like himself, in the back of his house. Sometimes these nights became violent. We could hear his kids crying, his wife drunkenly screaming for order while causing a fair bit of confusion herself. Once two men fell into our back yard and were grabbling and drunkenly trying to pin one another down in what they must have thought was a high end fight scene in the movie of their sad little lives.

The neighbor dad came over to our house one night and started accusing my brother David of stealing his shitty Coors Light beer. David was not stealing his beer at all of course. There was some other son of one of his friends that was eventually found to be the culprit, but this guy was adamant that it was David, threatening to shoot David if he saw him on his property, as if anyone with any self respect wanted to be seen on his shitty property. He eventually convinced the other men who were just like him in our town that David was coming onto his property to steal his missing beer, his most beloved drink, and they all took to calling David names as they drove by. If we were taking our nightly stroll, men would stumble out of the bar and accuse David of being a thief, and once in awhile they called David a 'dob'. We wondered for years what that might mean. It was all very weird. It seemed like from age thirteen on, other men wanted to fight David. I am not entirely sure why.

David signed up for football. I knew he didn't want to. The only reason he had signed up for football in the first place was because my father had been adamant about it for so many years and David didn't feel like he had the right to say no. It was something deeply personal to my father, some big momentous ordeal that had to be done. I think he felt that David had to live the life that he himself hadn't. He wanted David to become a strong football loving American white man – and not the strange hippie that my father had chosen to be at that same age. He wanted to live those wholesome boring American dream victories vicariously through David, perhaps to stave away the fact that he himself had never left the area he lived in, had two failed marriages, thirty-five failed online relationships, a failed business, a growing reliance on alcohol, and a wasted thirty-five years working at a factory who wanted him gone before he could receive the retirement he deserved.

I knew David didn't want to play sports anymore. Not even boxing really. I was sitting on the computer in the living room one night, as David was sleeping on the couch. David started talking in his sleep. He was panicking in his dream, stating over and over that he didn't want to play football. I looked over alarmed, and he had the look of someone who was drowning. A dream like that speaks volumes. David didn't want to go through with it, but he had already signed up. And it was eating him alive that he was doing this. He wanted to listen to music and collect albums, and read and challenge and critique everything he liked against the world. He had no interest in being brawny or masculine – at least not in the way my father wanted, and he hated everyone far too much to have any ambitions whatsoever. He felt completely outcast, and it happened at a young age all at once. It was harder for him than for me I think. I was born an outsider, and had ambitiously worked my way into a system anyway. I had that humility. David just woke up one day feeling like everything was a lie.

For two weeks David went to practice. His coach was that same foul disgusting man that I remember talking inappropriately about the teenage girls in my class and what he would like to do with them. He had talked about my best friend Ava and her weight. He was a loathsome hideous pretentious sick fucker with a whistle. I don't blame David for hating it. He went to practice for two weeks. They forced the boys to run around the field for a very long time, essentially going for miles or until the boys crumpled, at which point, the football coach would crouch over them and scream in their faces until they pulled themselves up and continued to run. David threw up several times. This didn't in an of itself stop him, but it would have stopped me. And then one day, David quit.

This caused my father to have some kind of meltdown. I remember sitting in the kitchen, and not knowing what had happened. I remember he was grimacing with fury and confusion, and leaning over the kitchen sink and then telling me to leave him alone – as if someone had just died. I thought getting upset because your son isn't going to be a small town football star was exceedingly lame. Later he blamed me almost entirely, as he had started to catch on that I had become a cold undermining force to him. His younger kids listened to me, not him. I guess there had been a fight, and David had said to my dad 'STOP TRYING TO LIVE THROUGH ME!'. Which did sound like a very 'me' thing to say, but it was all David. I think anyone around could see the dynamics for what they were. And if it was me, I feel very little sympathy. David's dream self was telling him not to play football, which to me means serious business. You don't fuck with dream stuff. It knows you in a way you don't. Plus, the world has too many 7th grade football players. It really does.

Of course, I wasn't happy with David either, but for different reasons. He went from being a sweet considerate person to being malicious towards Allison and I. It was getting harder to deal with, and I was trying not to hate him, but that resolve was breaking. I just couldn't go between two different realities, my brother as one of my best friends and my brother as someone who wanted to really hurt me. We ended up going up to my grandmother's house in my mother's van. My grandma was trying to get rid of her possessions. She had collected a lot over the years in her line of business. She couldn't sell things on eBay they way she used to. She was tired of packaging and shipping books. Plus, some weird asshole priest in town had taken it upon himself to see that the St. Vincent de Paul shut down – somehow in the complexity of the tax world this was going to financially benefit him personally. And that left my grandma out of work. So she was giving a lot of it away to my mother, who is almost a hoarder.

We drove up there, and a lot of it was work we couldn't really do. My uncle who remodels homes for a living, was also up there at my grandma's, remodeling a part of my grandma's house. It was kind of strange to see that room go. It was a special room full of crafts and beads. Different little tiny shelves went up to the ceiling, each one had a different kind of item inside. As a child I had been mesmerized and wanted to get into everything. He changed that room into something far more spacious – it's a better room ultimately, but for nostalgia reasons I will always miss the old room.

During our three or four day visit, we would sleep on the floor, and wake up early in the morning to the sun beaming down on us and to the snotty little noses of the Yorkies who excitedly sniffed us and licked our faces. On the second to last day of our visit, our uncle Rick wanted to take us rafting down the small river close to where my grandma lived. I was skeptical, as our last rafting trip had been pretty terrible with our father, but given that Rick had all the proper equipment and boats for all of us to use, and the fact that the water was manageably shallow – it wasn't some major north American river, just a forgettable small one, I eventually felt more optimistic.

My uncle Rick is an alcoholic/workaholic. He never had children, and he once told me this was intentional, as his alcoholism would destroy his kid's childhoods the way that my mother and her brother's childhood had been ruined by their own father. I don't particularly think my uncle Rick is all that great, but for some reason this answer was one of the most socially responsible and respectable answers I had ever heard come from someone in my family. It made sound sense to me.

Rick would work very rough jobs that gave him a lot of money and that took up most of his time. He was very anal about his work, and if you were trying to help him but weren't, he would shoo you away in a hostile fashion. After a job well done he would take that money and buy alcohol with it, get into insane fights, wreck his cars and get massive DUI's which cost him just about all the money he could have ever saved from the job he was doing, which would intern require of him to work even harder – causing him to stress and feel like drinking, and when he drank his life would fall apart rapidly and it all would happen over and over again. He will die an alcoholic. He even used to run his own AA meetings back in the 90's when he had a few years under his belt of sobriety – so he knows full and well what he is doing.

For some reason my uncle Rick reminds me intensely of my mother and father mixed together. It's uncanny and weird. He's not related to my father of course, whom I am sure sees nothing of himself in any member of his ex wife's family. But it's true. They are similar. And the differences are made up with the similarities he has with my mom – his sister. It's truly weird to me. The only addition to the mix is that he's a worse alcoholic than either of them. For this reason, I see him as a sort of parent to me, though I have never told him this, as it's a half handed compliment. Not that we are super close, but he's the complete hybrid of those two people who brought me into the world for whatever reason. And he's probably right, if he had kids he would ruin their lives. But since he didn't bring me into the world, I don't really have to hate him.

We ended up going on this rafting trip which was a lot of fun. Allison and I shared our boat. My uncle Rick and David shared another, and my mom was given her own. My mother didn't heed his warning that you should avoid the rocky shallow parts, since the rocks will eventually find a way to break a hole in your inner tube boat, and she felt sheepish and had to get in one of our boats when her boat collapsed. It all worked out though. It was a fifteen mile stretch of a shallow river/large creek (I don't know which). It was a perfect temperature. It was relaxing, and beautiful. All around us we saw fish in the clear water, and deer. I put it down as one of my more cherished wholesome memories – unconnected to anything sinister or complex. Just me out in the water. It is weird at moments of simple clarity and softness in living that I wondered about how I had stayed up all night contemplating suicide from a academic standpoint, or trying to make sense of human nature in my thought so it could be corrected. It was rare that I ever just had a day like that.

David ended up throwing this massive hateful tantrum towards me. He freaked out over a game of monopoly, and I don't remember what happened from there, but he was acting really rude and mean towards us. My blood pressure was up. I wanted to slam him in the face, but that wasn't something I was going to do now. I didn't want to do that ever again actually. So I kept my calm. I also could tell that he was trying to upset me and Allison. He wanted to see tears, and he was going at any length to get those tears. I was eventually made so mad I was afraid to speak, afraid to give him the satisfaction of upsetting me. I just pretended that he wasn't getting to me. Actually, it was really hurting me. It was disappointing me and making me feel horrible, and I didn't even know how to comprehend it. Eventually, as we were packing the van on the last day he caused some kind of chaotic issue with Allison and refused to pack this van. It wasn't a matter of packing your average van. It was like, two hours of work. And he just refused to help. My mother's back was out, and David said he would scream if Allison went out there – so my mother relented and sent Allison inside. If David had instead decided on going inside, seeing as he refused to be of service, this would have made it easier for Allison to come out and help, but he was intentionally setting it up so that I had to pack the van by myself.

My grandma watched, and I could tell she was frustrated. David had a way of using domestic terrorism to get his way. Everyone was afraid of him when he turned into this person. All the same, I didn't want to give him the satisfaction of frustration or tears. So for three hours, I worked up a huge sweat, my muscles tingling as I packed all of my mother's hoarder stuff into the van box by box, bag by bag, furniture piece by furniture piece. On the way back, Allison and David lived buried in stuff. They had only a little bit of breathing room. They must have resented the fact that I always got to sit in front, account of the fact that I was bigger than them, and the fact that I have always suffered extreme car sickness, making it inevitable I would be put up front anyway.

I packed the van, and while I did it David would glare at me and laugh at me and stick his face out at me like I should punch him. He sat there intentionally looking at me working, getting some weird satisfaction from sitting and doing nothing. Of course, maybe this was some kind of punishment for how I had babysat when I was thirteen years old. But I was twenty-one now! If we are all to suffer the consequences at the age of twenty-one, eight years after the fact, the god help us all. I was infuriated, but I somehow learned to use that fury and turn it into one psychotic grimacing smile. I held back, and when I finally had a half of a house worth shoved into the back of the van, I ran to the back room of my grandma's house, flopped face first into the blankets where my mother had slept on the floor, and just extruded this agonized fury in silence. I opened my mouth and nothing came out – only some black evil smoke that I had been holding in for several hours as I whistled past David. I closed my eyes and vividly imagined popping someone's eyes out of their sockets, clawing away at skin, snapping off fingers and toes. I had somehow held into this rage that was almost too much for me to bear. I felt shaky and weak and disoriented. And something emotionally strained in me broke. I loved David, but I didn't see him as my friend anymore. He was an enemy. He was old enough to know he was ruining the relationships he had with everyone around him and he didn't care. I had rarely if ever felt so hurt and frustrated as I had then. I could hear my mother's pampering voice in the kitchen, trying to appease him. I realized that ultimately, Allison and I were going to have to work around him, just like we worked around our parents. He was toxic. I hadn't let go of him as my brother. But I sort of knew from then on that things were going to go south for us. It had already started, and there was no way for me to reverse it.

At around this very same time, a totally bizarre situation happened, and it changed our family's dynamic forever. My dad had started occasionally visiting the local bars both in Kendrick and Juliaetta, a small town not far from there. He had met this young woman, this very young woman – only two or three years older than me. My father had just turned sixty. He didn't look that old – he still looked like he was in his late forties, but he was indeed sixty. It's not illegal, and I am not in the business of judging what two consenting adults do, but I really don't see a twenty three year old woman and a sixty year old man have in common. They had literally nothing in common. They had no shared interests or experiences. They didn't even really know how to talk to one another. She seemed confused and unstable. She had two kids, and a sad story and she needed a place to stay. I don't know if my father honestly deluded himself into thinking that he was going to be some kind of hero in a nonromantic way towards her, or if he had it in mind all along. He will always point to the woman and say it was her who initiated the relationship.

It started out he just gave her some money to help her out. He told me about it, chuckled nervously and assured me they weren't going to be in a relationship. And then she was calling him and soon they were suddenly an item. It all happened literally within a week. I remember the day it happened, and it was so strange. I had spent the day out in Lewiston with Sarah. We had listened to the Tom Waits record 'Heartattack and Vine' and Mr. Seigel had played. I ended up getting Mr. Seigel stuck in my head over and over again. And somehow I knew like, reality had shifted. Something had cracked to pieces and things were going to begin shifting all around me relatively rapidly. I didn't associate it with anything, I just knew everything was wrong, but it wasn't the kind of wrong you cry about or try to understand. It's the kind of wrong that has pushed the wheel towards sheer absurdism. You laugh in self defense because nothing makes any fucking sense anymore. Down is up. Something in the back of my head just tingled.

So I went in, and my father said that Crystal was going to be living in our house now with her two little boys, and she was suddenly just going to be the wife I guess? It was very weird. This woman was my age. Her father had sexually abused her, and she could never stop talking about it. It was very tragic. She was obsessed with older men who played some kind of role that her father had played. She literally talked about her father every single night. I don't really feel like this was wrong per say, but like, shame on my fucking dad. This in a way went beyond anything he had ever managed to do. It didn't even really effect me that badly. I just looked at this strange sister-mom and felt bad for her and thought my dad was a disturbed fucking idiot for bringing her in the house. I knew then and there too that he would never learn. Because he always was some kind of expert at the end of each failed relationship, and he always went on and on about how they were bad and he was good and he had learned his lesson. He imparted all kinds of confusing and harmful and clueless rhetoric. But never had I thought he would date someone this young, someone so obviously dealing with mental illness – someone who was literally looking for an old man to take her father's place in some horrible abusive scenario she kept reliving every day of her life. I remember just coming in the house and starting at my father straight in the face and shaking my head. He couldn't even go against me for that.

At the same time, he was in some kind of existential crisis because David had quit football. He had only now decided to see David's behavior as some kind of problem, conveniently when he wanted to punish David for something entirely stupid. David was staying up later than normal, which is totally normal for thirteen year olds. Furthermore, my father sometimes kept us up till midnight, so he was also just as guilty of letting us stay up late on school nights. But my father had his douchebag pants on I guess, and when he was in the upstairs hallway, he looked into David's bedroom and saw that David was awake. He started shouting at David to go to FUCKING BED!!!!! like a lunatic, and then David gave him some attitude, and My father lunged at David, grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall and punched him in the face and accused him of being a 'faggot homosexual'. Then he kicked David out.

I only found out later on, once David's side of the story came to light. My father was very vague about the entire thing. I later found out the reason that he kicked David out was in part because Crystal thought David was 'weird'. My father was so insecure and was so embarrassed to have a nonfootball playing son who some local hillbilly woman-child of low intellect that he barely knew for two weeks had thought his own son, whom he had spent his entire life raising – and though indeed flawed, didn't deserve to be kicked out or abandoned or abused by his father for the very personal choice of choosing not to partake in school sports was worth throwing away on behalf of. I looked at this entire situation with absolute disgust. Despite my issues with David, he really did get fucked over. And if you haven't learned better by the age of sixty, you will never ever learn. You will forever be that hopeless.

I had actually been secretly planning to send Allison to live with our mother up till the point where David got there first. Between my father and brother, Allison's life was getting pretty shitty. I wanted her to experience a new school, to maybe find opportunities somewhere else. I knew the ship was sinking. Crystal was not the cause of it, she was just an indication. I didn't hate her at all. It was weird because we were both so close in age, I would invite her to take walks with us at night, and she would generally talk about her abusive childhood, drifting between idealizing how great it all way, and feeling abused and empty. I just listened to her. Her sons were totally unruly, but I learned to appreciate them as well for what they were. I knew Crystal couldn't help what she was doing really. She had little to no experience outside of bars and living in the middle of nowhere with old cowboys. She had never visited a big city before. She told me that she thought that the horror movie, The Ring was real. She thought all horror movies were real because she couldn't fathom that anyone could think something like that with their own imaginations.

The family unit was combusting. I knew I would be fine because wherever I went, Sarah and Allison were still my family. I suddenly found myself certain I would be getting out of there. Whenever I was feeling unsure of myself, I realized that I almost didn't have a choice, and Sarah was pushing me along and helping me so much. Compared to me, she seemed so organized and sociable and competent. As for David, what could I say? It's not that I didn't love David or worry about him. I wanted to beat my father's brains out for hurting him. But he really was on his own because every time I tried to get close he attacked me or Allison and it got to where saw him as a threat, though not as an enemy. There was nothing further I could do for him. I was really sorry because I knew that we were at this pivotal point where, the things that were going to happen in the coming year or so were going to effect and ripple throughout the rest of his life. The decisions he made now was going to shape his future in a way that was going to cause him to struggle horribly when he got older and realized the consequences of it all.

When David lived at my mother's I only got tidbits of their altercations. Eventually David shoved my mother, but then again, maybe it was my mother that shoved David? I couldn't tell the truth. Because my mother was having some kind of crisis, and so was David and they were both at each other's throats. And then, my mom started telling me that she had called the cops on David. David denied this ever happened. I know that it did a few times because I remember him saying so himself. But then again, my mother really could be lying. Talking about it now with anyone is hard because everyone's memory is warped by intense emotions. I knew the both of them to be half crazy. I also know my mom – if she finds out someone wants to hit her she does everything in her power to make them hit her. I remember once fighting with her and she started screaming with this big wicked smile on her face 'HIT ME!!! HIT ME!!!' and I just looked at her with confusion and disgust. Like she was putting her cheek out at me, and it was beyond stupid. She wanted to get the satisfaction of believing herself to be a victim. It's my mom's thing. She's always a victim. I just looked at her and said 'What the hell? I am not going to hit my own mother.' I felt bad if I even cussed at her, even when she full out deserved it. It's just not in my nature to get in the hog pin with my mom. It's debasing and unclassy and ultimately giving into this notion that my life was and forever would be so small, that conquering her pathetic self with an arrogant and mindless jab in the face in our dirty ass kitchen was the most I could ever hope for. I just had to keep my eye above them all. My revenge would be my freedom from it someday. I had to look to the great big beautiful and mysterious world I lived in and not into the abysmal eyeballs of these maniacs that I called family. I wanted to transcend them, not give into their awful ways.

David stopped going to school. A lot of it was my mother's fault. She didn't really care at first – probably didn't get him where he needed to be because she couldn't understand that you need to keep your kids in school. But then it became a legal issue, and David still refused to go to school and they had fights about it. He wasn't old enough to be making this decision for himself, and yet he was because nobody was in his life to create any kind of stability for him. My dad had thrown him by the wayside for Crystal's minor convenience. My mother was a selfish and distracted chaos queen. He was too young to even realize the consequences of not going to school. But on the other hand, how can I really blame David? I myself stayed in school only because I am thirty percent more afraid of authority than David was, and I had friends and romantic interests that kept me curious about my school life. I barely hung on by a thread, and if I hadn't had those things I might have stopped going altogether as well. David didn't have those minor favors that I did. And at his very same age, I only went to school half the time as it was. I just did it differently, and I went to a school that nobody in a position of state power was going to step in and force me to go to. Idaho is one of the most ungoverned states. You wouldn't believe the kinds of things people get away from outside of the major cities.

At around this same time, my sister Roxanne and her husband Jeremy split up. It was a long time coming, too long a time. Jeremy had become more and more violent and abusive each passing day. He raped Roxanne. He was selling drugs, and he was prepping Sagen, Roxanne's daughter to molest her. At one point, shortly before Roxanne had reached this point with him where she couldn't handle it anymore, her second youngest daughter Hayley, who was only six at the time woke up from a night terror and Jeremy ran in there, grabbed her off the ground by her hair mid sleep, and shoved her against the wall violently. All for having cried out loud in her sleep – which woke him up. The guy deserved to be dead in my book. I couldn't visit there anymore because Jeremy was such a horrible person I couldn't hold it in anymore. My mother had called CPS on Roxanne with my strong eager encouragement, and she had lost her three children she had with her ex, Jody. Jody was also awful, but not a cruel and sadistic monster like Jeremy. I mean, I would cross the street to avoid him for sure, but I wouldn't wish death on him. Sagen Roxanne kept, since Sagen was older and had more say in where she went, and Roxanne's youngest little girl, Meliah she kept as well. Meliah was temporarily kept with Jeremy's sister, who was strangely normal compared to her folks.

It all ended I guess when Jeremy, whilst high on meth, held a knife to Roxanne's neck and threatened to kill her, as he believed she was stealing his drugs. He held her hostage, and eventually one of his friends had to tackle him down to get Roxanne free. So Roxanne finally told him to leave. And at first, we were all relieved. She had been with Jeremy for nearly six years, and every time I thought about what Roxanne and Jeremy were both putting those kids through, whenever I tried to contemplate what Roxanne was going through I felt this sick jab in my chest. It was strange to see how Roxanne had evolved from the hyperactive little girl she had been into this adult. I loved Roxanne a great deal. I believe her bright personality is part of the reason I get excited and feel up for anything. And of course I liked her. But given the damage she was doing and had done to her children at the behest of a man, it was hard to feel like I could warm up to her. So we all thought that Jeremy was the key element in her life, and if he was gone everything would get better. It's not what happened.

Jeremy had kept Roxanne on drugs, but he had always been the master of the drugs and he chose how much she used and how often – in order to keep her competent enough to take care of the chores and the kids. With him gone, Roxanne was able to use all the meth and pills she wanted without him controlling her doses. And then she and Sagen started using together. It was crushing to hear about. Sagen had literally won an award at her school, hand signed by Barack Obama for her gifted intelligence and her excellence as a student. People had seen her as some future lawmaker or someone of great future thinker. Her principal cared about her on a very personal level. So when Roxanne got her own twelve year old daughter on meth with her, we were all besides ourselves. I couldn't believe it. And then soon Sagen just stopped going to school altogether. The state tried to tie her down. They tried to give her to her father, but she ran away. Sagen's father had molested her, and had very little to do with her life, and she hated him. She stole from him and fled. When she ran away, Sagen's father had the audacity to write the Dr. Phil show and told Dr. Phil about Sagen's behavior, and the show actually offered to fly her over with her parents and have it out on the show, which Sagen refused. It was so crazy. Like, I can imagine how absurd it would have looked. Sagen would have randomly called her father out as a molester, and Dr. Phil would have tried to throw her in some kind of boot camp or rehab or something in between. This is just how far my family's madness had gone. Dr. Phil wanted us on his show! I mean, not me obviously as my problems largely manifested themselves internally in a way that would not make for that great of entertainment. But that general anxiety and dysfunction permeated pretty much throughout everyone in our family.

To bring this down to the more mundane, and to mention something before I forget. All that summer, and well into the fall, Allison and David owned rabbits. They joined some kind of FFA rabbit club, that was run by this really creepy dude named Frank that lived at the end of town. Frank had always been this guy on Halloween that dressed in a gorilla suit, all four hundred pounds of him, and chased kids. He chased me when I was five, and it almost scared me to the point where I had to stop trick or treating. I imagine this might have bent my bias against him. He was well known to walk about town until he found someone to talk their ear off, and he thought of himself as an inventor, though he never invented anything.

Allison started talking to his son Wayne, this very heavy kid in her class who was always cruel to due to his weight and I was always prodding her to be nice to him. I had watched him once when he was five in the store. He was always a very outgoing and nerdy boy, and had always been fat. He came up to some girls who were my age to show them some toys he liked. He was absolutely innocent and adorable, and they had pretty much called him names and were incredibly cruel towards him. I remember seeing the look of hurt on his face, and when Allison was in his class, I always urged her to go against the grain and be nice to him. From a very early age, he learned that he wasn't equal to anyone else, and it was massively fucked up. He never was a very good friend to Allison however. He was guarded and kind of crazy. I mean, he wasn't awful – just kind of know-it-allish, and it turned out he was obsessed with Stalin and dictators and most definitely voted for Donald Trump in the last election, and that was really weird.

Allison got this Dutch lop. He was a soft and adorable. If you turned him on his back and cradled him like a baby he would close his eyes. Rabbits are very simple creatures though. I loved him, but we never could do much with him, and it felt weird to keep him locked in a cage his whole life. It's not the way rabbits should live. We also had to make sure he ate the right stuff. My father ended up feeding him some bulb plants at first and it nearly killed him. And it turned out being gay. It never would mate with other rabbits, and got frenzied with disturbing rabbit lust and slobbered sexually whenever it was around other males. He was normally a very soft cuddly creature, but when Allison took him to the fair that year, he hopped across the table and began attempting to forcefully mate with the other rabbits, and it became this huge fiasco at the local fair that nobody will ever forget. David ended up getting this English lop, which are huge, and have the big ears. At first the English lop was really cute, but he soon became vicious. He would attack you if you got near him. He was hard to feed, and he would look at you and bite the cage with his teeth. We ended up having to give him back.

Allison and David eventually left the Rabbit Club. Frank was getting really weird for the both of them. David's rabbit went mad being caged up and full of hormones, so he gave the rabbit back and left the club. I think Frank ate that poor boy. David just remembers staring at Frank as he was conducting a meeting, and Frank had this insane smile on his face. One of his toes was infected and green and there were flies eating away at it. David looked up at Frank, who know that David had been looking at his toe, and he smiled into David's eyes – sort like 'see?' Which was a very disturbing for David. He imagined that Frank was perhaps secretly feeding the flies on purpose or something, and liked the flies eating the infection of his toe. They were literally covering the wound.

Allison's rabbit we found a home for with one of my father's girlfriends. She had a big space for the fuzzy guy, and as far as I know he lived a happy life – considering. Allison left too because Frank and his wife wouldn't stop trying to force Allison to date Wayne, and that got very strange for everyone. Frank was so forward about it, he would talk as though Allison and Wayne were going to keep up his legacy together, and one time accused Allison and Wayne of 'humping in the back of the pick up as Wayne's parents drove' something foul and crude and it just made everyone really uncomfortable. Frank was very good at being just the most uncomfortable person. He always said the most disturbing things. His house was filthy and he kept his rabbits in inhumane conditions. The inside was filled with the filth of rabbit, and they never did the dishes. Allison just didn't want to go there anymore.

On the upside, David caught a kitten around Wes's house, the guy my mother took care of for a living. I haven't mentioned it a lot, but all three of us, me, Allison and David spent a lot of our time at Wes's for those years – mostly going with our mom and leaving with her after her work was done for the evening. It was sort of boring – the walls were stained with nicotine, there were always old westerns playing on television, occasionally some gross old perverted man would stop by for a visit. But Wes was kind of a member of our family. And he bought us things. He wasn't shouting that my mother marry him or any of that disturbing stuff anymore. He paid my mom's bills though, which was kind of weird. It really amazes me just how often my mother has gotten other people to pay her bills. She works hard, but spends hard and often is low on money, but she always found a way. Wes's was ultimately a lot nicer than staying at our mom's for the day. Wes in his wheel chair and his scratchy voice, usually getting slight better from some illness that had really taken him down. He would buy us shrimp dinners and give us birthday money and jobs to get paid for outside. After his previous animal companion had been killed by getting ran over, he bought a new dog. Her name was Samantha, and she is by far the most well mannered easy going creature I ever met. She was half Chow, half Newfoundland. She was all black, and there was absolutely nothing that would upset her in anyway. She was very fat because she had a thyroid issue and Wes kept feeding her sandwiches and KFC. We often had to shave her in the summer because it was too hot for her, and she looked like a gray ridiculous potato. Thankfully dogs don't know what they look like – otherwise she might have been a bit embarrassed.

The kitten that David managed to catch was a stray male cat. I asked if I could keep it and my father said yes. I had had a kitten the year before. But that neighbor dad drunk had caught her and sent her to the pound because he didn't want her to grow up and beat his outdoor cat up, Tux, whom he had declawed. Her name had been Frances, and to this day I am slightly furious. I had a collar on her and everything. You can't just go taking people's cats to the pound. Anyway, this new kitten I named Nim, after Nimue from Arthurian Legend. I believe it was Merlin's lover, if my memory serves me well. But then we found out a month later that Nimue was a boy, so I shortened it to Nim. It was nice to have a kitten to take care of.

Nim eventually grew to be very aggressive though. He went wild and ripped into me one day with the intent to kill me. My mother came over to pick up once, and he bit her so hard she needed stitches. He was nobody's favorite cat. And he had pica, which sounds cute but is actually a disease that causes cats to eat stuff they aren't supposed to neurotically. The delight in question was my little sister Allison's sausage curl locks. Never anyone else's hair, only hers. While she slept, he would creep up to her face and begin eating her curly black hair. She would wake up in the night with half of her hair literally wet with his saliva and chew up. It was aggressive and simultaneously like he was nursing I noticed as I watched him in horror a few times. Allison's whole face would be covered in Nim's drool and it smelled. We slept in the same bed, so eventually I stayed up and waited for him to guard her against such intrusions. I would take him and throw him off her, and he would immediately run manically back up to her head and begin chewing aggressively whilst looking me dead in the eye, and I would throw him off. It became a war where I blocked him as he attempted obsessively to get to her hair. Eventually, he sort of gave up, but I had to keep waking up occasionally to make sure he wasn't up to trouble.

PART 77 - https://tinyurl.com/yc8bathg

PART 76 - https://tinyurl.com/y95kx2bo

PART 75 - https://tinyurl.com/y9afl9of

PART 74 - https://tinyurl.com/ydfkomx9

PART 73 - https://tinyurl.com/y6vy2jeu

PART 72 - https://tinyurl.com/yaegqs9x

PART 71 - https://tinyurl.com/y6v3ln9a

My Life Story in Chapters, PARTS 1-70 (this link below will lead you to a list of all the chapters i have written thus far).

http://aleatoryalarmalligator.tumblr.com/post/168782771574/life-story-sections-1-70

#text #writing #life story

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networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

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Bikers Quotes

Official Website: Bikers Quotes

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• A cousin of mine who was a casualty surgeon in Manhattan tells me that he and his colleagues had a one-word nickname for bikers: Donors. Rather chilling. – Stephen Fry

• And what makes me happy now has changed as well… Its one thing to play in a bar or at a biker festival, and hear a guy who’s been drinking beer all day come up and tell you how good you are. For a long time in your life that will make you happy. – Rick Derringer

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'Biker', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_biker').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_biker img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); ); • Biker chicks want the bad boy. – Theo Rossi • Bikers, in general, have just been so attractive to people. Photographers would follow them because there’s this weird warrior gravitas that comes with it. The bikes are loud, they have tattoos, they have artwork that they all wear on their jackets. – Ryan Hurst • Canada is like a nice family living over a biker bar . . . They keep telling the downstairs neighbors to keep down the noise, people are trying to sleep. – Dustin Hoffman • First you buy me a mocha. Then you let me help you hide a body. Now you take me to a biker clubhouse. Best. Day. Ever. – Kelley Armstrong • For about three years I was performing at one bar in East Los Angeles that was like a mean dive bar. You’re in there performing for drunks or bikers, not the most flattering people. I think it helped build my confidence, because you have to get their attention, then make them laugh. – Gabriel Iglesias • Grandma Mazur stood two feet back from my mother. “I gotta get me a pair if those,” she said, eyeballing my shorts. “I’ve still got pretty good legs, you know.” She raised her skirt and looked down at her knees. “What do you think? You think I’d look good in them biker things?” Grandma Mazur had knees like doorknobs. – Janet Evanovich • Guys are so predictable. They can’t seem to separate fantasy from reality, so I get a lot of bikers and race car drivers hitting on me. They’re all just playboys, so they don’t interest me. – Michelle Rodriguez • I don’t believe any sort of traveler does a better job than any other sort of traveler at obeying traffic safety laws. It’s difficult to foresee a camera program that can be used with bikers and walkers. – Robert James Thomson • I have a lot of respect for the bikers, which I’ve always had. – Emilio Rivera • I like raunchiness, not like in a biker-chick sort of a way, but like the girl can’t help it. Little bruises, a few hairs out of place, a little stain here and there. – Anton Szandor LaVey • I never went to camp as a kid. I couldn’t get into an Ivy League school. I wouldn’t join a biker club. – Bob Saget • I think it’s particularly a distinctively American concept that resonates with American culture through biker culture. A motorcycle is an independent thing. You’re like, ‘I don’t want to ride in a car with this person. I want to be independent and ride by myself. But, let’s ride in a group. Let’s be independent, together.’ – Ryan Hurst • I’d love to be on ‘Glee.’ I’d love to play a rebel. Be a real biker chick in leather and covered in tattoos. – Leona Lewis • If you see a biker chick hanging out with a group of bikers and associated with them, stay away. You’ll know right away if a biker chick is free; if she’s with someone, she’s right by his side. Getting with somebody’s old lady is a big no-no. That’s more serious than anything in that world. – Theo Rossi • I’m a menace to society, But girls in biker shorts are so fly to me. After the date, I’mma want to do the wild thing… You’re talkin’ lobster? I’m thinkin’ Burger King. – Ice Cube • I’m continuing to do research into biker culture. – Ron Perlman • I’m definitely never going to be a biker. I’m scared of cars so the idea of riding a motorcycle is just never going to be something that I’m into. – Kristen Stewart • I’m not keen on cars and motorbikes. I tried to be a biker, but it wasn’t me – I bought a Harley-Davidson and dumped it. – Colin Farrell • In ‘Hell Ride,’ I play a biker – it’s about the bikers. It’s with Dennis Hopper and Michael Madsen, Larry Bishop and myself. We’re bikers, and I play Billy Wings; I’ve got all sorts of wings, and you have to watch the movie to find out what the wings are about. – Vinnie Jones • It’s not impressive to get in a fight, but if one does happen, you’ve gotta be ready to handle it. Every girl, not just biker chicks, knows what kind of guy can. – Theo Rossi • I’ve been a biker, I’ve been a convict, I’ve been a husband, father, and son. – Duane Chapman • Messengers and mountain bikers share a common chromosome. – James Bethea • Nick was dressed in jeans, a dark green sweater, and bomber jacket–the perfect image of a rich college student. Talon looked like a biker who had just left Sanctuary, New Orleans’s premier biker bar. Acheron looked like a refugee from the Dungeon–the local underground goth hangout. Valerius was the professional contingent, and Zarek…Zarek just looked like he was ready to kill something.’ (Talon) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • One of the important things is that a lot of people forget that a biker club is a secret society. – Ryan Hurst • Only a biker knows why a dog sticks his head out of a car window. – Ralph Waldo Emerson • Really good mountain bikers are lousy judges of trail difficulty. We haven’t a clue, we just ride. – John Olsen • Sure, my childhood was unusual. All these eccentric, wild people frequented our home: rock stars, drag queens, models, bikers, freaks. But I was not this little rich girl. My mom and I lived in an apartment. – Liv Tyler • Tattoo. What a loaded word it is, rife with associations to goons, goofs, bikers, tribal warriors, carnival artists, drunken sailors and floozies. – Jon Anderson • The White Horse video which was directed by Marco Ovando started off with a biker theme. Once Ava Sanjurjo came in as stylist along with Marco & I it really took it’s own shape. It was all very improvised but wound up paying homage to NY and night life. People say it reminds them of a Guess ad which I love! – Nomi Ruiz • There was this kind of mildly annoying mythology about conductor Like biker should riding a Harley-Davidson on an LP cover, and wearing a sort of a leather suit. – Esa-Pekka Salonen • Um, Dr. Alexander, there’s a couple out here who say they’re related to you. They…um…they’re biker people. (Nurse) Hey, Julian. Tell Attila the Hun here that we’re okay so we can come and ooh and aah over the babies. (Eros) – Sherrilyn Kenyon • We get crazy when we can’t make things be like the world tells us they are”. She looked back out the window. “It was that way for me and your brother, I think. I mean, how could I have loved him that last year? I didn’t even know who he was. He was way more attracted to drugs and bikers and that whole lifestyle than he was to me. But somebody told me that if you really loved somebody,you stayed with him no matter what. You had to fight for him.” She laughe. “Hell, I was convinced. – Chris Crutcher • When I ran for governor, I told all the bikers, “You don’t need to worry about me bringing in a helmet law. It’s your option because you as a motorcycle rider that’s your option. It doesn’t come with the bike.” – Jesse Ventura • Why did I adopt kids? I dunno. Let me look at my family: religious weirdo, gun nut, biker, boozer, dead tooth, too many cats, the guy who talks to his truck. Hmm. Maybe I adopted because genetically my balls are full of poison. – Dana Gould • With a face like this, there aren’t a lot of lawyers or priest roles coming my way. I’ve gotta face that was meant for a mug shot and that’s what I’ve been doing for the past thirty years. If I play a cop, it’s always a racist cop, or a trigger-happy cop or a crooked cop – but by and large I play cowboys, bikers, and convicts. – M. C. Gainey • Yeah? Can you draw a skeleton riding a motorcycle with flames coming out of it? And I want a pirate hat on the skeleton. And a parrot on his shoulder. A skeleton parrot. Or maybe a ninja skeleton parrot? No, that would be overkill. But it’d be cool if the biker skeleton could be shooting some ninja throwing stars. That are on fire. – Richelle Mead • You could say that the Hell’s Angels have a bad reputation, then you talk to a biker, and he’s trying to join it. It just depends upon who you’re talking to about reputation. – Anton Newcombe • You ready? I have gold teeth, I have braids, I’m wearing Rick Owens moon boots, I have rips in my denim, a biker vest, I love artsy girls, my favourite artists are Jimi Hendrix and John Lennon. I’m obsessed with being different. – ASAP Rocky • You wouldn’t believe that I still have the bikers with the caps to the side at my door, ringing the doorbell. – Tina Turner [clickbank-storefront-bestselling]

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'a', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_a').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_a img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'e', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_e').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_e img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'i', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_i').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_i img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'o', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_o').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_o img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Product', keywords: 'u', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '4', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_u').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_u img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

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equitiesstocks · 5 years ago

Text

Bikers Quotes

Official Website: Bikers Quotes

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• A cousin of mine who was a casualty surgeon in Manhattan tells me that he and his colleagues had a one-word nickname for bikers: Donors. Rather chilling. – Stephen Fry

0 notes