If you weren't such an asshole, I would have totally loved you. I remember your guns and your funeral. Oh was I just day-dreaming? Well, maybe I was, but I hated you for scaring my Mom and for lifting me up with one hand when I was a kid and for walking toward that big window on the 3rd floor and for opening that window and for making my Mom scream and for making me scream and for showing me what a 3rd floor window really looked like from the outside. I swear, when Michael Jackson showed us his little kid a couple of decades down the line and swore that little baby of his was never in any danger whatsoever, I couldn't help but think of you when you were still alive and held me outside that window and I cried because I was only three. Would you act surprised if I told you I still remember?
Too bad you can't hear me, being dead and all. Too bad you decided not to love us. Too bad you drove us away. Too bad I didn't know how to use your guns. I guess my fingers were too small. Too bad it's father's day and I am reminded of you. Each and every freaking year I am. But I tell you one thing, Daddy... If you're in heaven and one day I die and I meet you, I'm-a smack that face of yours big time, for I'm an adult now and I'm twice the man you ever were.
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