Dougie Fresh

It’s no secret that my father was a mean bastard. Oh he’s real mushy now, but he’s pushing seventy. It’s a law that when you turn sixty five you’ve got to chill out the tough guy stuff. It’s also no secret that I sucked in school, every year. I just couldn’t do it, you know the homework, the math tests. Bunch of shit. So you can probably guess that the mean bastard and myself, well we butted heads a little. And that would be ok if the man was all skinny and weak, but he could still kick my ass, and like I said he’s clocking in at seventy. So needless to say I’ve dug a bunch of ditches, piled up logs, painted the chimney where all the wasp nests were. Real Great Escape stuff. I guess if I was just a little more like Doug, you know the guy upstairs who can tell your IQ by looking at your teeth. The guy that when he says hello to you you feel just a little smarter, then he walks away and you feel like an asshole cause he was probably making fun of you somehow. You know if I was just a little more like that guy, I wouldn’t have wasted so many years with my hiney all red from the belt. I mean I look at that guy and I think……I think….GOD I’M DUMB. Then I think no, wait I’m not dumb I’m just big boned… no uhhh…Jesus, see what I mean, if I even think about that guy I lose all train of thought. What the hell was I talking about?


You’re only as good as your last daily


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