This is one of my lost short pieces that I recently found tucked away in a notebook. I was reading too much Hemmingway at the time and so the story is only a story and there really is no point.
My father? Hmm. I suppose it wouldn't be normal if I said we got along. At some point in a kid's life they wonder if they're adopted. I may have wondered more than most. I'd watch my father's stubbly face for that one expression that would ear mark my adoption. One time I went as far as to ask my mom if she slept around, which earned me a souvenir handprint on my face. I had asked my father first, he said she would know best.
My father for all intents and purposes is insane. My clearest memories of him are the weekend visits to the institution. There he was the resident bookie/gambling hall. Because someone had swallowed the real dice they would play craps with mental dice. The patients would hunker around my father as he shouted 5 and 6, 3 and 1, 4 and 2. During horserace season, he gave a running commentary; Sea Breeze rounds the first bend in the lead, followed closely by Marmalade and Triton but wait out in the back coming in fast Lone Hoof. My father swore the games were completely random but by the time he was discharged Napoleon had lost most of France to him, he owned Cleopatra's firstborn and he was heir to the Cucumber Kingdom.
One time when my father wasn't crazy when he was taking his meds I asked him why he kept the IOUs. He said that he was so out of it most of the time he wasn't sure who was going to actually pay up.
To be honest medication was more of a helpful aid than a cure.
The Following summer my father received a letter in the mail from Napoleon he apologize that he was only recently made aware of his death and subsequent loss of French territories. He said he could not pay his debt but enclose a two dollar coupon for a scoop of ice cream again apologizing for the inconvenience.
So you can say my father and I have our differences. I haven't talked to him in about a year now since he tried to genetically alter my cat using baking soda and hundred feet of speaker cable. Still, the cat got over it so I don't see why I can't. Maybe I will visit him this year. I hear he has a great racket renting time in the future to other patients. Or something like that.