Folks often talk about how they were brought up, I was just about drug up and right lucky to have lived to tell the tale. I was born into a wicked man’s home and so far as my Momma knows – I share his DNA. As a youngster I didn’t have the opportunity to watch his ‘development’ as it were – my siblings, myself, and my Mumma had a front row seat to his wickedness in blossom; that is of course, when her eyes were not swollen shut.
I took my first beating from him in the womb my Mumma said, not too much changed after that. He was an active alcoholic in addition to a sadistic ped-o-phile that could occasionally could squeeze out charm. He was some handsome in is younger years, my Mumma told me – looked a lot like Elvis she said. He sure didn’t look much like Elvis by the time I got around to consciously noticing what folks looked like and all. That man was a wicked man, and not to many folks didn’t know it – I was a youngster when I was right certain of it.
He was your classic messed up wicked man, an in vivo example that imbibed and breathed out destruction. The sort, that if you had any sense at all, would cause you clutch your little lady and your kids a little closer when he was in the house – especially your little girls. He was Illiterate, unemployed, riotous and eventually a recluse. A man of many compulsions, he ate, drank and inhaled his way into obesity, tooth decay, diabetes, emphysema and eventually congestive heart failure.
No sir, he was a wicked man, and it was right plain obvious.
You can imagine then, that for sure and for certain I thought that I had the wicked man cased; after having a front row seat and all. As I came to see, and I’m sure you will agree that nothing could have been further from the truth.