Gut Rumbles
 

April 02, 2007

A (good) day in the life of the Acidman

Originally published August 10, 2002

12:21am
My son is asleep on the couch, where he prefers to crash when he stays at daddy's house. He's as tucked in as he's going to get, under that ratty white blanket I keep next to the sofa for when my drunken friends need a place to stay. He LIKES that blanket.

I love that boy.

Sometimes, (all too infrequently) I watch him sleep and I remember the day he was born. He came out with cauliflower ears and I worried about that for a while. But the ears straightened out just fine and he became everything I ever wanted in a son. Still, I remember being worried about the shape of his ears. I remember EVERYTHING about the day he was born.

I remember teaching him to walk and to talk. I remember the joy he gave me as he learned to say, "Da-da," and point a finger at me. I remember holding his hand as he toddled around the house. I remember being in love with his mama.

I also remember changing a few incredibly nasty diapers that I would just as soon forget about.

I see him four days every month now. I remember everything about him until one year ago.

I've missed a lot since then.

5:26pm

Acidman could use a nap about now.

I've hauled Quinton and young Jack out to Mom's house for a romp on a huge dirt pile on the Hesse Elementary School playground, then a long soaking in the swimming pool to get the dirt off the boys. Terrorist attacks with super-soaker water-guns occurred without warning. I was a victim at first, but I somehow ended up with BOTH GUNS, after a very brief struggle, and took my toll of revenge without mercy. That's what those poots get for messing with the Tall Dog.

We went to Mc-Killya after that and ate artery-clogging fast food. The boys scarfed hamburgers and fries, sucked down strawberry milkshakes, and headed for the playground, where they crawled up some PVC tunnels and found plastic balls with which to attack me from high ground. The little shits had missles flying all around me as I tried to drink my Super-Sized Dr. Pepper at an outside table. I calmly collected the balls until they ran out of ammo. When they emerged from the tunnel to reload, I let them both have it. Vengence was MINE!

They're having a wrestling match on the Playstation II now, and I am nodding over this keyboard. Maybe they'll go over to Jack's house for a while and I can lay on the sofa and close my eyes just for a minute. Just a minute is all I ask.

It ain't gonna happen, but I can dream, can't I?

8:15pm
I have two nekkid boys in my "clean" bathtub and I have threatened them both with horrible deaths if they don't AT LEAST get their hair wet. Supper is cooking, and I better go check on it before I blog my house down.

Okay, supper is fine. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes and green beans, with toasted butter-rolls. Damn, I like to cook! I don't get many chances anymore, but I haven't lost my touch.

Some sort of combat is occurring in the bathroom. The boys have GI Joe action-figures in the water with them, and the shit is hitting the fan. Oh yeah, it's a major battle with extreme casualties. Neither boy has a wet head yet. I'm going to go drown them BOTH!

Then feed them supper...

10:52pm
I now have two dead boys in MY bed. They crawled in there to watch The Terminator on my bedside TV and somehow got terminated themselves. Quinton is at the foot of the bed and Jack is at the head, and they've managed somehow to twist the sheets around so that both are semi-covered. The little shits OUGHT to be tired, because they sure enough wore ME out today.

They both ate TWO HELPINGS of supper tonight, too. Acidman can cook.

I guess I'll grab the ratty white blanket and sleep on the couch tonight. My bed is full.

So was my day.

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