October 2005 / Volume Six / Issue Five | |||||||||||
Jason Floyd Williams | |||||||||||
like father, like son. (The relatability of stories.) I was telling my dad that one of my best decisions, next to getting married, was not hitting that Priest when he over-stepped the community-service boundaries & wanted me to fold his skivvies in his bedroom. I didn't punch him, I just left. I did, later-on, drink 10 beers & shovel 2 tons of gravel to get the mad out. My ol man told me you can always walk away. Sometimes that's the best thing. "Like the time I was sittin' at this junior-maffia round-table, with these guys quizzin' me about where I buy my drugs. I was stoned at the time, that helped, but there was this gorilla poundin' his fist into his hand, like he was tenderizin' steaks. Then this stripper I knew came over to me and whispered, 'Bob, these guys probably won't hurt you, but they did cause a man to go crazy last week.' So I just stood-up & walked-out. Though, I did duck behind all the trees for the next mile until I reached my car." |
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RETURN TO OCTOBER 2005 |