.jpg)
my dad was always a mean son-of-a-bitch. he had a propensity for finding unique ways to punish me.
when i was 7 i wanted to see how fast i could go in my red radio flyer wagon. so one day i tied my blanket around my neck like a cape and pushed my wagon down to where my dad had parked his truck the night before, half on the lawn and half in the street. i attached the metal arm and plastic handle to the hook up on the back of my dads white pick up. i waited in the back until it got dark then dad, beer in hand, hopped in his car.
i had not anticipated the lack of oil in this rusty pick up, the smoke was thick and tasted what i would eventually describe as LA. i flew the four wheels bounced around and i had to hold on for dear life, but i was flying. when we got to the franks, the local bar everyone out in front was laughing at my dad. he reacted by throwing the half empty beer cans all over the cab at his laughing friends. soon after he discovered my little experiment.
he was not laughing. i thought i had flown on the way there, boy was i wrong. my dad picked me up and spun around and launched me like a shot-putter. i must of flown 15 feet in the air. i found myself tangled in an old evergreen tree. i don't remember much after this. the police showed up soon after, i did not speak to them.
the next day my dad bought a u-lock and walked me and my radio flyer to a bike stand. he locked my radio flyer to it. then he pulled a ham sandwich out of his pocket.
he placed the keys between the moldy bread and day old ham and told me to eat it. i sat there and swallowed to silver keys and spoiled food for ten minutes. now, finding the keys a few days later is an entirely different kind of story.
