My Dad is pretty cool. He’s vastly different than most dads. I mean that in a genuine way. Not like a cheesy “World’s Greatest Dad” sort of way because he’s not. He was absent most of the time when I was a kid, but that’s okay!! Cool people need their space. He just needed a lot of that, mixed with time. My dad sold drugs. My dad beat people up. He was framed for murder once. AND he’s actually straight up killed someone. Pretty cool, I know. I’m pretty sure my dad could beat up your dad. And your grandpa. And your sister’s boyfriend. All at once. I hope I’m not bragging too much in this opening paragraph.
Since my dad wasn’t around because he was so frequently in jail, I feel like he’s really tried to connect with me. To make up for lost time. He has a tough time being vulnerable. I can tell when he’s trying. I get it. He was supposed to be tough 24/7. I don’t think he’s ever cried. I don’t think he’s seen “The Fox and The Hound,” or the Pokemon episode “Bye Bye Butterfree.” (These are two things that have made me cry profusely.) Anyway, I know that he tries and I like that he does. Here are just a few of the moments where my dad has tried connecting in ways that only he can express.
– About two months ago, my Dad “borrowed” a motorcycle and sold it (cheaply!) to give me money to buy Drake tickets. He undersold tremendously and gave me $70. Also, don’t snitch.
– Every year my Dad would drive to Nevada and buy fireworks to sell back home in Los Angeles. You do this when you’re poor and unemployable. His favorite were Excalibur artillery shells. A canister that shoots artillery shells hundreds of feet in the air. One 4th of July, he had leftover shells and hot glued two canisters together, added a handle, and placed a shell or two into the makeshift chamber to create what he called a “bazooka.” He wanted me to shoot it with him. I told my grandma and she made him throw it away.
– My Dad went through a phase where he, for whatever reason, bought Spy Kids Spy Gear for himself and would immediately brag to me and ask, “Pretty cool, ehh?” This is when I began lying to my father.
– For Christmas my Dad bought me a Millennium Falcon spaceship. I was 16 when I got it. In all fairness I asked for it.
– One of the first major bad words I ever heard was from my Dad. It was “cocksucker.” We were driving and he saw this old guy we knew. His name was Eddy. He was like 60. My Dad said, “Ayy! Eddy!” Eddy waved, smiling. And my Dad was like, “Cocksucker!!” Then peeled out in his Camaro. I was like, damn. A compound word.
– I’ve never gotten high, or done any sort of drugs. My Dad knows this. He’s offered to get me high a few times and I’m always like,”No Dad, I took the D.A.R.E pledge.”
– My Dad calls my notebook where I write jokes “My diary.”
– My Dad has seen me do stand-up. He says I’m alright. He has not seen any of the jokes about him.
My Dad is a good person. He did bad things, but that’s okay. They were well intentioned. I know they were. He’s cool. For sure cooler than your Dad. Hands down.
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