Daddy the Drunk
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Drunken daddy
Late
By a weekend
No money again
Mummy’s furious
Sunday night she hides
Fat sniper
Behind the sofa
Lights off
Breadknife in hand
Last chance expired
A quarter past ten
The window rattles
Curtains flap
Real men use doors
Two skinny legs push through a tiny window
Then an **** follows
Mummy gets up slowly
‘Caught you, you bastard! This is the last time! You don’t get to sleep in my bed! This is not a hotel! Go back to the pub and live with your ****ing friends!’
To encourage him out she pokes the knife in his leg
It slips
Upwards
And enters his backside instead
Severed flesh
A red patch grows on his filthy work pants
‘You ****ing psycho *****!’
It does the trick
He takes off like a dog out of a trap
And mummy runs to the front door and shouts
‘I’m sorry, Love, please forgive me! Come back!’
Copyright © Cheryle Sanders | Year Posted 2012
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