Monday, August 20, 2007

Crack Chronicles, pt. III

The Escort
Vroom up the speed goes
Doing 30 in 5th gear
Still can't go up hills

De la crackpipas de Chronicletas

OK so after Toboggan boy I noticed that last tiny sliver of respect and\ or fear I had for my dad had vacated, replaced by disgust and contempt. So everything settled back to normal, in other words.

Janet was getting more and more annoyed with having to share her crack with my dad, whose appetite for the white candy had reached critical mass (I heard him talking about going through 2500 dollars on a saturday night). She was also annoyed with his need to follow her everywhere, and his inability to hold down a job anymore, I am not sure I will ever figure out why.

Jobs
When my parents got divorced because my dad didn't like the fact that my mom had become a stripper (yes I will tell you all about it later), he had a very good job, so I did not care that they had gotten divorced, since my life was not going to change all that much. It hurt my little brother, but screw him he broke my Nintendo.

We did not want for much, other than for our dad to stop whining "I need puuuussssyyyyy!" Which he did all the time, whether we had friends over or not. No exaggeration. Anyway, that was a small price to pay in order to not have to go hungry or wear played out clothes all the time. This all changed when Janet entered our lives.

Dad's love of Janet and also of crack did not jive well with steady employment. This is funny, because when his good job found out that he was, in fact, smoking crack, they did not fire him. They brought it to his attention (I would have loved to have been there for that meeting) and told him in order to stay employed he would need to enter some kind of drug treatment, which they would be happy to pay for since he had worked for them for 13 years. Instead of taking the very sensible offer, my dad said "I got morals! I quit!" and stomped out (his recounting, he probably also lit up a pipe in the office before he left but I digress), never to return or make that much money again (I now make 150% of what he made there, the loser).

From that moment on he worked at all of the local gas stations and fast food restaurants, always getting fired after about 3 paychecks for stealing from the store, or no call no shows. He would work real hard, see, until payday, when he would come in in the morning, get his check, then not show up for work that afternoon or that following Monday either.

The reason this happened is because Janet would leave my dad when he ran out of money, usually that Monday or Tuesday if he had overtime. She would disappear and not come back until he got paid again, at which time she would show up and tell him she would give him one more chance, he would give her his paycheck and things would be good for awhile longer. This went on for about 6 months until the divorce, but that is another story.

My dad also worked for a dildo manufacturer. Let me say that again, I know it did not sink in. MY DAD MADE THE BOXES DILDOS COME IN. He also got fired from there, but never told us why. Think about the implications of that and get back to me. He got fired from numerous places for no call no show and for stealing product. That's a clue. More on jobs and the Duster tomorrow.

2 comments:

This Haggard Machine said...

God I hope his name 'Tobbagan Boy' isn't because of:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=tobbagan

Stevester said...

Though hilarious, I think my dad is too much of a bitch to do something like that, he rof\de his super tight burgundy silk boxer shorts down some stone steps though