Dodging Bullets

“What?!”

He looked like I just told him his father was gay.

“Cannibalistic Infanticide?” I said.

“Yeah, well, what the hell is that?”

“It’s when parents eat their young in nature. All kinds of animals do it, chimpanzees, elephants, lions, even cats and dogs.”

The term “Morning Sickness” came to mind as I watched him stare down into his coffee.

“How does that even pertain to working for a company?”

He seemed bothered.

I knew I was going to have to enlighten him if I brought this up.

Damn it.

I took a deep breath and proceeded.

“Well, the last company I worked for brought me in, took me under their wing, like a mother would with her child. They trained me and even raised me up in their organization. I worked long hours and committed most of my time to see them succeed, became one of the pack, so to speak. It was right about that time that I wanted to advance in the company and I brought some new idea’s to the table, started showing my strength. They felt threatened, cut me off at the knees by dispersing my responsibilities to others and ultimately fired me. It’s similar to the way a cowardly animal would act if they sensed a more dominant animal around, even if it’s one their own who will never turn on them, destroy and consume, fire and absorb.”

He finally responded like a normal human being.

“Well I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m not sorry, but do you understand now?”

He shook his head. “Yeah, but it sounds kind of brutal.”

This guy was a good liar. Why else would he be here?

“It usually is. It’s like a big game of Monopoly!” I laughed.

I could tell I concerned him.

The coffee in his cup had to be getting cold by now, but he nervously raised it to his lips for one last sip. After he placed the mug back on his desk he pushed his chair out and stood to his feet. I mimicked his actions.

I could see it in his face before the lies started to spew.

“Well, thank you for coming in today Mr. Carroll. I’ll be reviewing your resume with our HR department and we’ll get back to you later this week.”

This prick didn’t appreciate honesty and he sure as hell wasn’t going to hire me."

Fine by me though, I don't need anymore ammunition for my dysfunctional work place analogies.

We extended hands and firmly shook.

“Thank you for your time and the great opportunity.” I said with a smirk.

Three in a row.

I’m sitting on my father’s leather couch. He’s upstairs in bed, sick. They called me two days ago to tell me he’s dying. “They” are his personal assistants.

They found him passed out at his desk in the late afternoon. After being rushed to the hospital it was discovered that he had heart disease and was quickly declining. You didn’t have to be a doctor to know that something was wrong with the man. He’s smoked a pack a day and has consumed a fifth of Jameson since he was 16. What did they expect?

I expect that “They” were looking forward to him dying. Maybe their name might show up in the will. It won’t. Neither will mine, but that’s not why we stopped talking.

A nurse has been coming down every few hours to inform me of my father’s health. It’s always about the same.

“His vitals don’t looks so good.”

I told her she could stop with the reports. Just let me know when he dies.

This bad news seems timely since I just lost my job a few weeks back. That job felt like a bad relationship. Stress, lies and sneaking around, they kicked me out, so to speak because of my drinking. They called it “downsizing”. How do you downsize a VP?

Bad things often happen in threes. This is number two. I’ve been wondering what was next.

Maybe my liver will go out due to my marathon drinking. Like Father, like son. I don’t blame him though, at least when I’m sober.

He did give me my first drink when I was 10, started stealing his cigarettes when I was 12, got laid shortly after. You’d be surprised at how much pull you can have as a pre-teen with adult substances. You’re probably not surprised though.

I stare at the family portrait that hangs over the fireplace. Mom died 5 years ago. William is upstairs at Dad’s side, just like in the picture. I sit here and think about getting more fucked up than I already am.

I’m thirsty. The man’s liquor cabinet is stocked as always. “Jameson on the rocks”, just the way he likes it. I snag a smoke and step outside on to the balcony that overlooks the ocean.

I guzzle and puff and remember that there is a God or a being or a theory. The nurse rudely interrupts my moment to inform me that my father has passed.

I finish my drink and put the cigarette out on the palm of my hand.