Simple Days 2

As I moved on to being a toddler I soon learned that; although, a good arm meant a lot it was not going to save me from the severe Oedipus complex that pitted not only my father but also myself against my brothers devoted love for my mother. I can truly say that I was never a mama’s boy; yet again I wasn’t extremely fond of my father either. I was of course doomed to be a sociopath. Which suited me just fine until I realized that violence made me physically ill. There was only one solution to this dilemma, I would have to use my tongue as a sword and figure out a way to save my myself by not writing checks with my mouth that my ass couldn’t cover. It was a fine line that I walked. By day my brothers nemesis by night a loving son who sought out the affection of his parent’s. It was of course all a sham that I would have to deal with one day. As I learned to walk and talk it became apparent to me that being able to do both at the same time was truly a gift from above. I could zing a couple of remarks at any adversary and then move like the wind towards a save haven, usually my mothers loving yet guilty arms. Nurturing was not her gig. She is British and worships Winston Churchill. Stiff upper lip and all that rot. Hard love is like a boiled egged: it’s got a shell you break but as you peel it back you realize you’re about to eat the embryo of something that could have been beautiful. But what the hell you put some salt on it and eat it anyway. That salt seems to get rubbed into the wounds over time and you slowly sour on forgiveness, and oh by the way time does not heal all wounds. There are some things I will take to the grave with me. Yes I can hold a grudge but it is only to those who make me suffer their stupidity. Make no mistake you should never under estimate the stupidity of your fellow human beings. As time went on my brother and I bonded in a way that was truly remarkable, he always won and I always lost. It was likes Newton’s law. For every action I took he reacted with the same but opposite force, which meant that even an honest game checkers turned into a life or death game for me. If his intuition were correct he would know that on some days I was bound to win. That of course made him make sure that the game never came to fruition. Him not losing meant I wouldn’t get beat to within and inch of my life. It was not perhaps the most admirable agreement but it was a bond we both we both understood because if I did somehow manage to win and was the object of his over developed Oedipus complex he was sure to suffer the wrath of my father. It was a viscous cycle