Silly Grins

Thursday, February 28, 2013

His Eyes

There was fear in them
Which, when you thought about it, made sense

You see, he drank.
He drank hard enough so that the joke
that goes something like this:

Judge Throws Up On His New Suit

One night a district judge went out on a binge and threw up all over his new suit. He came home that night, disrobed then passed out next to his wife. 

The next morning his wife woke him up and asked him what happened to his suit.
"Well," the judge replied, "last night I decided to ride around with the city police while they made a few arrests on some drunk drivers. They loaded a drunk up in the car and he threw up all over me. But don't worry dear, this morning when he comes before me in court, I'll make sure he pays enough to clean my suit."

That morning in court his wife called him up on the telephone. She asked, "John have you run that drunk through court, that threw up on your suit?"
The judge answered, "No."

She replied, "Well you'd better charge him a lot more cause he shit your pants, too."

He drank hard enough, so that it was funny – the joke. 

Funny enough to laugh at, at least for him when he told it
For him

Must not forget to give thanks...

Fear in the eyes set in pale skin
He could argue with the best of them and liked boxing too
A real fan of Hemingway’s 

But he wasn’t honest, to himself most of all
Must’a been what scared him
Afraid that somebody might find out

Out about what? Not that anybody cares or will ever know

Man could he argue
Had wanted to go into law
But had given in to paternal pressure
So he lived his life as a man of the cloth
And spent a good deal of time in Vegas

His 2nd or maybe 3rd wife, you lose count after a while,
She said he’d got so drunk he couldn’t give his sermons
The old guys at the congregation would have to find a
    back room for him to sit in whilst they read scripture

He’d always wanted to be a writer
And would sit out in his part of the warehouse
In his little ‘office’ writing away
He wanted to do something big and important and
    probably drink a lot like Hemingway

But he was no man as far as I could tell
Not so much from what he did
Or didn’t do… because there was a lot of that

As far as I could tell
He was a little boy
Because of his eyes
There was fear in them

Which, when you think about it, makes sense.


  1. A little boy, yes... So good to be a little boy, as long as you don't take on any major grown-up responsibilities, like supporting a family. I'm glad I never had kids to look at me with that profound sense of disappointment and sadness that they have when they know daddy's a fuck-up.

    1. A mother and her son had given what they could through their humiliation and humility, perhaps prolonging the inevitable. No longer willing to play a part in the others' tragedy, the union was dissolved.

      Distanced and alone, three years shy of sixty, the Father stroked out of life. Guess if you're going to have a heart-attack, you want to do it right.

      Well, the one and only son who idolized his pa' fell apart and went kind of crazy. Crazy enough to think the satellites were tracking him as he rode the circuit, numerous times, on his old man's Harley... out to the Priest and Nuns and back to the now bankrupt city. And, after a few tries, he eventually cut deep enough to where they couldn't stitch him up anymore; his passing a testament to his father's legacy.

      To that father's little boy, Dad was always the hero.

    2. I am a hero. To humankind. For not producing any progeny ;)

    3. There's still plenty of time.

  2. Geez you sure this story isn't about my dad? Cept he wanted to be a womanizing musician... didn't really work out to well for him though. Don't know what number wife (or kid; I just found out I have a 3 year old half-sister) he is on these days. Ran into him a while back at a cousin's birthday... still the sad, pathetic, man he always was. Too afraid to come and meet me and my hubs proper till after he had down several beers. Then tried to pick a fight with my husband for not speaking Spanish and not being Mexican.... we laughed in his face and told him we were in the US where English is the primary language and left the party.

    Silly old man, too bad for him I never gave him the respect he demanded but never deserved.

    1. The 'father' in this story has long since been laid to rest (as well as a step-brother who followed in his footsteps not so long after). Last time I ran into step-dad #2, he was not so far from the Priest and Nuns. He didn't look my in the eyes, but he was helpful with the information he gave - his directions were good enough. We only got a little lost on the trail he'd told us was supposed to be there.

      In due time, Spanish will become the most widely used and most practical language on the west coast (if it isn't already). As far as not being Mexican, well, California only has to wait another generation or two I suppose. Spanish is definitely the second language of choice among the people I know who don't speak it at home. German is just too brutal on the tongue and Kraftwerk isn't really a group that you can sing along with - and even they use some Spanish, even if just in Numbers.