I saw Dad again yesterday. Yes, he's still dead, and as active as ever. You've heard that you can't keep a good man down, but in his case it's "You can't keep a dead man in the ground." And I don't know why. I really don't. He's a lot more active now than when he was alive and no more likable, given the odors of decay. At least I no longer have to live anywhere near him, or even admit that I know him. Knew him. My only "interaction" these days is occasionally catching a quick glimpse of him running naked down the street, possibly chased by various carrion eaters. All I have to do is to turn the corner and head upwind, if I can. I like wind.
Saw Dad running naked down the highway around noon, pursued by about 20 police cars. They were having a bit of a problem keeping up. Pretty good for a guy who's been dead for around 23 years now, and has to dig his way up to sunlight every time he wants a bit of fresh air, but being the dead undead is the only thing he was ever good at, somehow.
Saw Dad again yesterday, running naked in the park, chasing cats. I truly don't know how he finds so many cats to chase, especially for a dead guy, or where he gets those goofy tattoos of his.
If you must have a Dad, don't pick one like mine. He was dead all the time, had a terrible personality, and smelled bad. Besides being cold and distant. Something about spending your days and nights in a grave will do that I guess. Though I do have to give him credit for climbing out of the hole every time we dumped him back into it.
Dad just walked by the coffee shop — naked and on the loose again. Damn, that guy won't stay buried for nothin.
See that guy outside? The one with no pants? He's my dad — taught me everything I know. Maybe I too can be President some day.
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Me? Constantly trying to run away from my future.
