I have resisted the urge for far too long.
I'm going to tell you all a tale my mother wouldn't want you to know, because she's polite, and courteous, and respects the feelings of others.
Those atributes must have skipped a generation.
But this is a secret story, so keep your traps shut--Mum's literally the word, fuckers.
So Mumsey (M) works with this gal we'll call A. She's a real go-er, and continually keeps the town busy-bodies well stocked with fresh gossip to exchange over coffee or bridge. The sweetest gossip about her, however, had nothing to do with A boffing so-and-so's husband, or drinking too much and popping a squat on Main St., or going outside during winter without sensible shoes--oh no. In this tale A plays only the role of Innocence.
Thirty years ago when rubber met pavement, and the roar of a finely-tuned Harley filled the air, rubber did not make a vital connection elsewhere, and so A was born.
Nothing slows an easy rider down more than stopping to buy soft serve ice cream for some brat, or pulling over to throw a tit in some rug rat's mouth; so mom went one way, dad the other, and baby was left to be raised by grandma.
Classy people, eh?
Some time when A was a kid, her dad hooks up with some new old lady, then promptly murders her with an axe.
Yes. An axe.
And you know what murdering someone with an axe makes you--an AXE MURDERER.
Her father was an AXE MURDERER.
I bet you didn't even know such a thing truly existed, did you?
Neither did M's boss, M'sB, when he came in to work one morning chuckling away to himself.
What was so funny? Glad you asked.
M'sB had just read that some dude with the same last name as A, and who was an axe murderer jailed in Kingston, had just died.
"Someone related to you, A? Har har har!"
. . .and the 2004 Foot In Mouth Award goes to. . .
My mother won't admit it (because she's polite and considerate, you'll recall), but the look on her boss' face when A said "OMIGOD! OMIGOD! That's my DAD!!" must have been a classic.
What are the odds, eh?
Your dad's a convicted axe murderer--he dies--and you're the last one to find out.
And they way you find out is some clown you work with pulling a nudge-nudge wink-wink routine.
From Office Hero to Office Zero in five seconds flat. The thing that haunts me about this story is: that could have just as easily been me cramming foot.
The footnote of this story is (and I have it by good report from my mother and two childhood friends who have each done some light lifting at her home, if you follow me) she leaves the teevee on for her father. . .who now sits patiently in an urn on her kitchen table.
"Dad gets lonely."
His favorite show? Lumberjack Challenge on OLN.
i made that last bit up.
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