Work Sucks
I hated my job at the plastic company. The fumes in that place were terrible. I didn’t want to keep breathing in that shit for the rest of my life. Plus, the hours sucked. I had to be in work at 4 a.m. and I got off at 4 p.m. This ruined much of my chance at a social life. There was a douchebag that worked with that found out that me and this fat chick that worked there bought a case of Bud and went back to her place to smoke some weed. Well, we ended up having sex. He was always singing “This Bud’s for you” and shit. And then he started talking about how it probably looked like Abott and Costello making a porno and I was the small one. He kept laughing but she was okay. I wasn’t really into her, but we had an okay time I quit my job there a few weeks later when I got a job as a casual dockworker. I made much better money, but there was a chance that I might only get one day a week. However, if I got five days in a week, I would be making much better money.
Bad Seed
I hated Thanksgiving. I hated any kind of family shit. I know that now. I really did not know that then. I did it out of duty. I did it out of duty. I had to wear more of a mask around my family than any other place. My family talked. I just stood looking at a picture of a couple praying over the crops that they planted. I pulled up in the driveway with my piece of shit ’86 Chevy Cavalier. The rest of the family had new or close to new cars. My step sister just bought a new Camaro; however, she couldn’t afford to keep it too long. The house was pretty nice. People thought that we were rich, but we weren’t.
Sitting at the table were my step father, mother, sister and two step sisters and their boyfriends. Like always, there was a happy family and me. My stepfather built the house along with his brother. He always saw me as lazy. He took the fact that, when I was six year old, I was not responsible personally. He started telling me, at that age, that I was no good and lazy. It was belts, paddles, punches, all of that happened for years whenever anything went wrong. When I was thirteen, I started fighting back. The trash can had to be empty all of the time. It was not a take out the trash once or twice a day thing. It had to be empty at all times. If there was trash in the can, I got a beating. I called him an asshole once and he punched me in the face. I started punching back, but I got my ass beat. He and my mom got separated after that. Yeah, he was going to divorce my mother on grounds that I did not take out the trash. You know, he actually had it worse than me. At least that is what he told me and everyone else. His father was a hillbilly who had kids, mostly, because they were free labor on his farm. Those two were separated for years. I spent a summer at different friends’ houses. I lived with my dad one summer and then I lived at my dad’s house for a year on two different occasions. When I was grown, my mom, for some reason, wanted to keep me in the family.
All of the other ones turned out ok. That is what everyone always said. I was just a bad seed. We sat the table for my sisters and their boyfriends, my mother and step father, and me.
“We need an odd number of chairs because Joe doesn’t like girls.” My mother said.
“He doesn’t like work either. Why is he even here?”
My mother changed “It’s okay. I wanted him to be here.”
“Why?” he said
“I got a job.” I said.
“But, yeah, are you going to stay there?” he said
“I’m a dockworker.”
My mom asked my step sister “How do you like your new car?”
Oh yeah, it is really….”
My step father said. “Are you working like two days a week or something?”
Everyone got quiet. I didn’t say anything. To have peace in the family, everyone had to agree with him. My mother would try to keep some balance. She was mostly worried about what her family and friends would think if she had a son that did not talk to her family. What the fuck am I doing here? I just got up and left.”