FATHERS AND PIZZAS!

Fathers are like pizza! They come in different sizes, some look okay and others just not pleasing to the eye some make you go crazy and others are just filled with junk but unlike pizza we don’t choose the father we get and disappointingly or not there are not two of them on Tuesdays.

During my early years I used to hope that there was a huge mix up at the hospital and I was switched at birth and so one day my real father (Bush) would come to claim me. A few years later I learned that I was actually born at home , that was right before it dawned on me that I was black and everybody hated Bush including Bin Laden,the other guy everybody hated.

So I grew jealous of any other kid who had any other father other than mine. To this day I’m still convinced that the real reason Judas sold out Christ was because Jesus’s dad was the Holy Ghost and his was just a peasant farmer in lil’ ass Jerusalem. He was probably going to use his silver coins to buy a new daddy.

Contrary to popular opinion it was my Dad who taught me how to insult women and not a bad movie or Lil’ wayne. My Dad would get home wasted as usual and just let it talk. “Prostitute! Where were you,you deceptive beast!?” And all along my mum was right there. This used to bother me when I was young but when I got older I got used to it and made a Gambling Game out of it. So when my Dad came home me and my brothers would gather and settle in the sitting room and watch while it all went down while anxiously waiting for The ‘MOMENT’…The ‘MOMENT’ was the instant my Mum would drop a bombshell on my Dad that would shut him right up. My Mum had a lot of S#!t on my Dad and when it came down to a fight she would pick one and do damage. She would say something like “Oh,so you have money right? And who bought you your first stool?”  that picture of him Big as he was sitting on a tiny  stool hugging his knees in appreciation would mess with his Ego In ways only he can explain. He would sit down, ask for his food, complain about how bad it tasted then eat all of it. He would then go to bed murmuring that he still had more money, then my Mum started making more money than him and he would murmur that she despises him because he has no money.

My Dad’s record against my Mum was like that of Arsenal against Manchester…#Crappy. The only time he won was when he drunk bad booze which blinded him for two hours and he fought my mum in absentia.

My dad took everything my Mum did as a challenge .Like this one time my Mum was praying for supper and when she finished my Dad took over where she left off and made sure that his prayer was longer and louder. Then he realized that all along my mother was eating…..*BOMBSHELL!*

If my dad’s ‘Fights I’ve lost’ were actual grades he would still be in class 1 waiting to get his laptop so that he could complain out how my Mother made sure that he got the smallest one.

But despite all this I respect my father because no matter how bad it got, no matter how massive the humiliation, he never hit her! Not once. I’m just hoping he did not pick a fight on father’s day because then it won’t be as happy as I wished him. 

                                  Written by Brian