Thursday, March 31, 2011
My children eat their sandwiches and they adore me. I am a giant here and that's all I have so please don't tell them where the bees sleep.
When the boy is in bed and the girl is not crying I do sudoku puzzles and then I imagine bashing your skull in with a hammer while you touch my wife on her body. You have taken her and that is not okay but it has happened. Now you must be happy with what you have and by that I mean please just leave my children alone. I am a helium balloon floating above their sunny faces and scruffy hair and they are still clutching my string tight in their pudgy little hands.
But dinner time is coming and they will let me go because you are making hot dogs and nothing else and that is what they like. You will be their father and they will look at you with your t-shirt tucked into your jeans and when you say "in the flowers" they will know that I am nothing more than a colourless, odourless, tasteless, non-toxic, inert, monatomic asshole.