Humper-Monkey Jan 21, 2006

"I'll be there in a minute, I've got to cripple Mr. Clean!"





I come from a long line of military service. We're talking Revolutionary War back there. I was raised in the code of "Honor. Duty. Courage. Love. Mercy. Compassion." and that military service was a way of paying your debt to society for freedoms, free schooling, and all the other wonderful benifits that living in America gives you.



My old man was awesome beyond words. His father was frightening, yet awesome. I was raised to honor the laws, the office if not the man, obey the laws, and knowing when to fight against injustice. He believed in his military oath, even the "Foriegn and Domestic" part of it. When he joined the Army he was a 4th grade graduate, when he retired he had his Masters.



He stressed to us that men and women were different, yet equal. He adopted children. Not the easy ones, the discipline cases, the ones that people pretend don't exist. The poor fuckers that didn't have a chance. Not one of them failed to graduate high school, most went into the military and I still talk to them today. He only lost one adopted kid, who was hit and killed by a drunk driver in the parking lot of G.I. Joe's while walking home from his part time job.



He left his mark on me. Sure, I'm a psychotic, but I do have a great capacity for love and compassion because of him. I've always tried to lead by example, even as a civilian I believe that holding myself to a higher standard than society does is what a man does.



Coming home busted up beyond nearly recognition was not dishonorable. I had lived, and that was enough. I had nothing to be ashamed of, but it did not make me better than those who never served. "To protect those that will not or can not defend themselves" does not give you the right to judge them for their choices.



My father had thousands of sayings. He left his impressions on all of us.



So, now you know me.



A couple of years ago, my first wife gets ahold of me. It turns out that she had given birth to a son, and wanted me to take a paternity test. I refused, and eventually was compelled by court order to give up a sample of DNA. He turned out to be my son, and the State of Florida attempted to bill me for all her years of welfare fraud.



She also demanded back child support. We went to court, and the judge threw it out, seeing as she had been married to someone else the entire time. She got pissed, and in the parking lot, told me that I needed to act like a man, and take the kid.



So here's this kid that I've never even loving met, that I didn't even know existed before she contacted me after almost 15 years. Things had changed so much, she didn't even recognise me, and she wants to hand me a 13 year old? Aw gently caress.



So I tell her that I'll be back in 2 days to pick him up, have his poo poo ready. I'm not playing games with her, and the local cops are coming to witness it, along with her signing over ALL legal rights to the kid. I fly back to Olympia, and borrow my brother's pickup, leaving the family car with him.



I show up, my wife with me, and here's this kid. Aw gently caress, there's no denying that's my kid, we didn't even NEED the DNA test. One look at the two of us, and everyone would realize that's my kid. Despite the fact he's skinnier than I was at that age, he looks like me at 13.



"So your the guy whose my real dad?" he asks. Oh God, he's a whiner.



"Yeah, turns out I am. I'm Monkey. That's Monkey-Wife. You have 3 sisters, here's a picture. Let me help you load the stuff into the truck."



"I'm tired from bringing it out here. My mom didn't help me, and my step-rear end in a top hat wouldn't let me take all my stuff. Can't you do it?"



Well, I kind of want to get off on the right foot, and going all Drill Sergeant on his rear end wasn't exactly what I wanted to do. So the wife and I load all his poo poo into the truck.



"Can I say goodbye to my girlfriend?"



I tell him sure, just give me directions. He does, and she comes bounding out of a trailer home with a blue tarp on the top. She's obviously pregnant, and looks, well, like Britney Spears had been beat in the face with an ugly stick and her tits had fallen into her gut. In other words, dressed in tramp style and just plain acne covered shack nasty ugly.



"I want to stay overnight here." he says.



"No. We have 1500 miles to go, your sisters are with your uncle and aunt, and I promised him I'd pick them up. Get in the truck."



"No."



"Boooy." I could hear my father's ghost laughing. Ever heard the Tall-Man from Phatasm say "Booooy!" That's how the males in my family sound when they say it.



"I'm staying with her. I love her."



"Get in the truck, now."



"You're just trying to keep us apart! We're like Romeo and Juliet! We're like (some loving people I found out were from some goddamn anime) and you're like (the villian, I guess), and you can't make me!"



"Get in the goddamn truck, or I'll put you in it."



He does some poo poo with his hands and exhales like Darth Vader cumming all over Princess Liea's rear end and tells me: "Don't make me kick your rear end, old man!"



gently caress this. I'll handle it the way my old man would handle idiots. I grab him by his collar, bounce him off the side of the truck, grab one leg, and throw him in the back. He looks up, and I smack him.



"I'm the alpha male. Stay in the truck or you'll learn what happens to pups who make challenges." He recoils and I fire up the truck and leave pregnant and ugly behind.



We stop at a gas station, and I tell him: "Pump the gas, I'm gonna grab some coffee."



"No."



: : "Why not?" My temper's cooled, and my meds are working.



"I don't know how."



"What? Why not?"



"Mommy didn't want me to. She said it was dangerous." WTF? Mommy?



So I show him how to pump gas, get my coffee and a donut, pay for the gas, and see him walking across the gas station/truck stop parking lot. I set my coffee and donut on the hood and jog toward him, and he breaks into a run, looking like a spastic chimp.



I catch up to him pretty easy. Don't be fooled by the limp, I was still running 2-5 miles a day. I grab him by the collar and swing him around.



"Don't. Run."



"You can't keep me from her! We're destined to be together! I'm Alexander the Great, she's Cleopatra!"



"Get in the goddamn truck. Now."



"You can't tell me what to do, I'm Alexander the Great and she's Cleopatra, we're destined!!" He swings, badly telegraphed and totally uncordinated. I duck underneath, pop back up, and grab his ear and twist.



"He was queer. She was ugly. Now get in the truck. I'll buy you a loving dress in Seattle."



So he's ranting and raving about how he can't be kept from her, I'm dragging him to the truck by his ear, and wondering if I'm gonna have to put this kid in therapy. Given the choice between having his ear torn off or getting in the truck, he gets in.



I'm losing my patience.



We hit the freeway, and keep going till I have to get gas again. I stand by the side of the truck and stare at him, my wife pumps the gas. When we get to a rest stop, I start opening his boxes, and he freaks out.



"What are you doing? That's mine!"



"I'm tossing your poo poo. Get used to it." I find porn with names like "Daddy's Girls" and "Family Love", that goes in the garbage. I find a bag of marijuana and some other poo poo, I just toss it in the garbage.



"That's my stuff, you can't do that."



"Shut the gently caress up. You can't be trusted, you tried to bring drugs into my house. The porn is sick incest poo poo, and it ain't going to my house."



We get back in the truck, my wife drives, I sleep.



I'm woken up by a loud cry of pain and sit up.



Mr. Wonderful is laying on the ground crying, my wife has her fists balled up and is literally shaking. She's got a palm mark on her face.



"What the hell?" I ask, getting out of the truck.



"SHE HURT ME!" he squalls out.



"He slapped her!" this black dude says. We're at another rest stop. "He tried to walk away, she grabbed him, and he slapped her. He raised his hand again and she pulled some karate poo poo and bounced him!" He and his friends are all laughing.



Oh. gently caress. See, she may look sweet, but she spent 12 years in the military, got out on a medical after she fractured several vertebra in an ambulance humvee crash. She was a vet of Haiti, Desert Storm, Panama, and was decorated for bravery. She took part in the Red Team Gym combatives team.



"That's pretty much what happened." my wife tells me.



"Get in the truck, now." I tell him. Why punish him? He tried his hand against the Alpha female and got hosed up. He climbs in crying he's going to call CPS on us. By this time, I'm ready to loving turn him into CPS. What the gently caress kind of kid did my ex-wife raise?



So we get back in the truck, and she's pissed. He loving slaps her, and tells her: "That's what you get for touching me!" So when he raised his hand again, she did the standard US Army Judo throw and bounced him off the pavement.



We bypass Seattle and stop at Fort Lewis to pick up my kids. My brother comes out all smiles and my kids run up and surround me. Everyone wants to see "The Boy." He's huddled down in the truck, and when he gets out, he snubs my brother by saying: "Army guys are wimps! Saiyans are the real badasses!" I'm like "What the gently caress is a say-anne?"



"He's an anime geek." My brother tells me, and shakes his head. "Good luck, Monkey." We hug, and he goes back in the house. We make "The Boy" ride in the truck still, since he wanted to snub his sisters by ignoring them. The wife loads the girls into the car and he asks: "Can't I ride in the cab?"



"Get in."



We get in, and he sprawls out in the seat and pulls out a Gameboy.



"Hey, buckle up."



"Seat belts are for mortals."



"Seat belts are going to be wrapped around your loving neck." I warn him. He sighs, rolls his eyes, and buckles up.



We ride for the next 6 hours in silence, just his Gameboy beeping, until we get to the house. His sisters are already in bed, my wife beat me there by about an hour, and I had to chase him through the woods once at a rest stop. Took me longer to drag him out by his collar than to catch him. He had all the running wind of an asthmatic parapelgic. Without a wheel-chair. Deaf people in other states could hear him panting. For those of you who ever run from a one-eyed psychotic in the woods, here's a hint: Don't run 200 feet, think you're safe, and light up a joint. He's gonna catch you.



I march in, grab the phone, and call my ex.



"What's the real reason you shipped him off to me?" I ask.



So, it all comes out. He threatened his step dad. Started slapping her when he didn't get his way. Beat up his little sisters. Was smoking pot in the house. Was failing in school. He wouldn't do his chores, but stole money from his parents.



I remember thinking: Great, this is just going to get worse.



I was right.



[more later, and trust me, it gets better]