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Chapter 5
I suppose I’d probably put two or three dollars in the jukebox (and learned the bartender’s real name was Myrtle, but, around 1965 her professional name had become Trixie) before I felt the call of nature. We’d re-hashed the Cub Scout years by then, and, truthfully, I had gained little, if any, insight that I hadn’t known when he was alive. Suddenly, I felt the need to drain the lizard…
“Pop, I need to whiz. I’ll be right back. Promise me you won’t wander off, okay?” I thought that was pretty funny, but he didn’t even look up. He was checking out the laminated menu card held up between the salt-and-pepper shakers, squinting the same way he did when he was alive. Dad couldn’t focus on anything closer than three feet from him, but he’d always refused to wear glasses for any reason, because he didn’t need them... unless he wanted to see, of course. Dad probably couldn’t spell ‘stubborn’, yet he was one of nature’s best examples of the word’s true meaning. As I said, some things never change.
I found my way to the 4 x 5 enclosure laughingly referred to as the men’s room. It contained a toilet and a urinal. I was afraid to ask about a sink… I guess I should be grateful that they even had indoor plumbing at all. I returned to find Dad talking to Trixie, her arm wrapped around his shoulder.
“You want me to leave you two lovebirds alone?” It took my best efforts to keep from losing my lunch.
Trixie smiled coyly and patted her hair, giving me her best kiss my ass attitude. “Whazza matter, Junior, don’t know how to treat a lady? Or are you jealous?” She smiled at me and rubbed my old man’s shoulder. “This tiger here does… maybe you should take some lessons.”
For a few seconds, all I could do was stare. My suddenly-mute father, the same man who always had something to say, sat stock still. That’s right… let me dangle in the breeze.
“Uh, you want to tell her, or should I, Pop?” Now, the remains of the man who I call Dad was gritting his teeth and shaking his head fervently, in the time-honored shut the hell up, I think I’m getting somewhere signal.
“Okay… I think it’s time for me to go. Pop, need me to float you a loan for a room or can you just snap your fingers or something?” I’d seen just about all I cared to take in for one day when Trixie decided that I hadn’t quite suffered enough.
“Yea, you can run along, baby boy… daddy and I are going upstairs.”
I don’t know whether it was the beer or the smell of this place or maybe just my mind trying to get around the concept that my dead father was sitting at a table, copping a cheap feel from the world’s ugliest woman; but suddenly the room started to spin and I needed to run for the commode. I pushed the door open and hugged the porcelain for what seemed like twenty minutes as the waves of nausea overtook me… Dear God, make it stop!
Then, thanks be to God, I passed out.
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