Father's Day fills me with sadness sometimes...
I sit on a secluded park bench with my rifle neatly wrapped in colorful paper...a little present to myself.
It only somewhat makes up for the lack of gifts from my illegitimate children.
When I see the other fathers with their sons and daughters frolicking in the park and eating ice cream so messily with cold creamy dollops on their smiling chins I get hit with pangs of both hunger and regret. Perhaps I should let some of my illegitimate children find out where I am?
At least the ones whose mothers aren't in jail or completely destitute. Maybe I should let those ones track me down and put their little arms around me. They would probably give me presents on Father's Day.
But then I think that they would probably get me something stupid and unnecessary like a tie or an ugly shirt. Is an ugly shirt one day a year worth the burden of pretending to care about them or their mothers for the other 364?
I don't think so, and I've thought about it a lot.
So I sit on my bench in silence and secretly pretend my kids are all astronauts way off on the moon someplace, and that's why they are not with me today. I would be eating ice cream with them, but they are frolicking with aliens and scampering about atop moon rocks and cosmic hills.
