Saw Dad yesterday, down by the charter boat docks. They were cutting him into chunks to use as fish bait. "Chum", they call it. He always wanted people to call him "Chum", and now he's it. Earned it fair and square, and we won't need to keep chasing him down and re-burying him every week or so — it's going to be something like a dispersed burial this time. Let's hope it takes.
I never knew Dad very well. He died while I was really bored and not paying attention, and kind of young. Even though he wouldn't stay buried, dealing with him was mostly catch-and-release, or in his case, catch-and-rebury, so it was never like we had a close relationship or anything, and anyway, he smelled bad. Really bad. Dead people are like that for some reason.
Yeah well, Dad. He was on the TV news again last night, seen running naked through downtown. He's giving the whole family a bad name. First, there's that naked stuff, and then he just will not stay buried, no matter how deep we dig the hole.
Dad came by for a visit yesterday. I've moved five or six times just to avoid this, but it never seems to help. So I had to toss him into the back of the truck and haul him back to Happy Forever Cemetery and Toxic Waste Dump, and re-bury him yet again.
Dad's been pretty active lately. Dug himself out of his grave four times this week and scared the chickens so much that they moved to Florida.
I recently befriended a rat. Said he was a friend of my dad, which makes some sense. Makes a lot of sense, given what I know now.
They found Dad on top of the radio tower, naked again, and howling. How he got out of the grave this time we may never know. I only wish he'd been this much fun while alive.
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Me? Found a comb in my beard. Didn't know I had a beard.
