Dad To The World

Sunday is Father’s Day. I say that in case you are a father. Or know someone who is a father. Or maybe just want to honor someone who fathered someone sometime. Or will. It’s up to you.

Me? No, I don’t have a father. I did, of course, it’s not like – wow, Immaculate Conception, call the Vatican or anything. It’s just; my dad’s no longer with us. Oh, no!! He’s not dead! He’s just gone. Away. Far, far away. Back to his home planet. See, he came to Earth to save mankind from its own stupidity by giving us the cure for all our diseases and by sharing unlimited free energy sources and providing plans for an automobile that runs on garbage, but of course the government sent special CIA assassin squads to kill him and he had to flee and go back to his home world – but not before impregnating my mother. And one day he’ll be back to take me away from all this. Which is neat because he’s like the president or king or something on his planet. He’s definitely mega-cool and everyone loves him and would automatically love me, his son.

Sure, I know it’s kind of hard to believe and I don’t have any proof or anything but it’s the truth, I swear it! And I will stick by that story as I cry myself to sleep each Father’s Day and try my darnedest not to remember the time I asked my slapper of a mom who my daddy was and she just rolled over, burped George Dickel, pointed to her high school yearbook and said, “Take your pick.”


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