I can’t believe today is your graduation day. To think 24 years ago I held a little shivering pink baby in my arms and now after seven years and $145,000 of my money you have finished college. A degree in woodcutting and printmaking. We couldn’t be more… I can’t do this anymore. What the fuck are you doing with your life?
You know almost 25 years ago your mother pulled the goalie on me without saying anything. My parents told me not to date her. They said that no good could come from dating a women that wore pants. Next thing I know I have to stop chasing my dream of playing baseball and get a job at Bank of America. 25 years later I have risen to middle management by working 75 hours a week to support a kid I never wanted. I worked my ass off to be a great dad. The least you could have done was be a decent kid. I gave you and your mother everything. All I asked was to have the garage to myself so that I could work on my model trains. I couldn’t even get that because we needed to house all your various projects through the years. Knitting, silk screening, dutch wooden shoe carving?
Would it have killed you to finish one of them? I blame it on your mother. The only she could finish was a second bottle of white zin. The two of you. If I had just stopped at her that would have been fine I could have left. But having a kid? That’s just chasing bad money with good. But I had to do the right thing. God damn my parents for teaching me to be responsible. God rest their souls. Not that you ever cared. Those poor old bastards sent you $100 every Christmas and you couldn’t bother to write them once. I raised a complete cock of a daughter.
Look this may be a lot to deal with but I have spent the last quarter century waiting my sentence out like I was in Shawshank. But the difference between me and that movie is I have been crawling through shit for 24 years. I can’t do it anymore. I quietly promised myself when you were ten (and it was obvious that you were a bigger waste of space then your mother) that I would put my head down and get through this thing called life. Little did I know that I would be blessed with a fucking retard that couldn’t get her liberal arts degree from a fake college in less than 7 years. I would say you could be a doctor in that time but I doubt you could have become a dental hygienist in twice as long. You got your mother’s looks, brains, and ambition. Is it scientifically possible that all of someone’s genes could be recessive?
Thy reminds me. I’m leaving your harpy of a mother for my dental hygienist. Her name is Lisa and she smells like freedom and sandalwood. The line highlight of the last ten years has been having her rub what have to be the most perfect tits in North Dakota and my face while she cleans my molars. I’ve been keeping a secret bank account in order to escape the mundane hell you people have kept me in. I’m taking the dog with me. Buck the German Shepard has been my constant and only compatriot as I served my sentence. We plan on opening a model train store in a state in the southwest. I don’t know why I am keeping it a secret. I would be shocked if you knew any states other “confused”.
I know you thought I had your college loan in my name. Luckily my buddy Dougie in loans at the bank fudged the paperwork and you and your mom are the proud owners of $145K in liberal arts bullshit university loans.. I wonder how many woodcut posters you are going to have to sell to pay back $145K at 12.5%. Better get working sweetie. Maybe you can get a job at the bank. HA!
I tried. I really did. But you and your mother took me for granted and only saw me as an ATM that could hang Christmas lights. So I bid you both farewell. Tell your mom for me. I don’t have the energy to tell her one more thing. Not that should would even listen. However, I did leave her a little present. I shit in her pillow cases. All of them. Every single stupid fucking pillow on our bed, couch, spare room, entry way. All of them. I’ve been saving my turds for the last month for today. I figured I have been dealing with all your shit the last 24 years, time for you to deal with mine. Enjoy.
– Your Former Father.