The Deadly Seven

My father wandered in like he always did wearing his pride like a decades old varsity Letterman jacket too stuck on what used to be to realize that his life was just as crappy and cracked as the jacket too proud to ask for help so he just sat on his recliner all day, out of a job and out of shits to give looking like a hairy motionless two-timing two-toed sloth thirsting lustfully after the women he studied in his magazines and quenching that thirst with bottle after bottle of Jack you could almost hear the bottle crying out his confessions as he drank "glug glug glut gluttony" the smell of alcohol masked only by the stench of the envy he felt for his younger self and yet at the same time amplified by the anger he had for growing old My father, a class A stand up guy. 1/27/16