My Dear Papa
*The following short story is a work of fiction. The characters, organisations, brands, and events portrayed are fictional. Any resemblance to reality is purely coincidental. This material does not reflect the author's opinions. It may depict highly unsuitable topics and language for sensitive demographics and should not be read by minors.
The following is a letter written by Abraham Towers. The recipient is Anthony Towers. Entitled: My Dear Papa.
Some say he was a jerk, incompetent for the society, that he had bad breath, that he was useless, ill tempered, but they only say that because they are still hurt about those prostitutes he killed. If they had never provoked him in the first place, he would not be on the run to the middle-east right now.
However, despite he is a murderer, his tremendous qualities often override any weakness he possesses. My family always says he is the most hardworking man in the world—and he even assassinated two uncles of mine—but my grandmother still thinks dearly of him.
“They were my least favorite children, you know?”
But not all the absent fathers are bad people just because they are internationally wanted… This man loved bureaucracy, numbers, dietary regimens, the gym, women who wear thongs, gambling, robbing banks, trafficking organs, and making love with cadavers. But can you really blame him?
I still love my dear papa.
He was a corrupt accountant for a mobile company, from which he stole big money, and share non with me, but that is because he is saving it for my college. I will reach thirty next year but I am still very fond about studying psychology.
“The family is first, no matter what.” My dear papa said before submitting himself to a gender change operation. And for a little while I had two mothers, but I kept confusing the two of them because of their mustaches.
He served time for a little while; he was sent to the woman’s prison where he raped a guard after dressing him up as his mother.
I frequently talk to my mom about him, but we swiftly run out of adjectives to describe him. “He was… Well, a boy, at first… And then, an adolescent… Then he impregnated you… Then he reached seventeen… Then he killed those prostitutes… His determination was key… He worked really hard polishing those axes, you need, like, skill to do that.”
The only time I saw my father crying was when my mother suffered a car crash but miraculously survived. My father had a hard time buying all of her clothes back.
In the end, I think I will always love my father, no matter what. And that is the way it should be.
Perhaps my father is now overseas trying to reach another continent, but I wish him luck with his life, because he will always be part of mine despite his actions. And for a long time I resented him, but now I have learned to forgive him, I cannot hold a grudge my whole life. Now I see him (or her) and think that he once was just a defenseless abortion that got out of the trashcan and raped two fetuses twice as big. If my father could be described in a single adjective, I think it would be: Determined.
-I love you papa, good luck selling those guns to the sand niggers. BTW, inscriptions begin on August.
The following content is an email written by my girlfriend. The recipient is me. Subject: I really don’t think you should post the past story.
Baby, I love you. You know I understand your sense of humor. But as your publicist, I must tell you this short story is a little over the top. Why do you not change some words? Perhaps you could write “Fishes” instead of “Prostitutes”? Or “Making love with watermelons” instead of “Cadavers”? “Beaners” for “Sand Niggers”? I am well aware you do not appreciate these kind of suggestions, but you ought to consider my words. I am only afraid that the three people that actually read your stories may quit—Nacho already told me he unfollowed you—so please get rid of the black humor and post some of your family-friendliest stories, OK? Please? At least do tragedies, Childhood Depression had great feedback, for some reason people resonate more with drama, so please do drama. Please. Or whatever except black humor.
The following content is a letter written Abraham Towers. The recipient is Anthony Towers. Entitled: My Dear Papa - Second Draft
Some say he was an imbecile, that he had an enlarged prostate, but they only say that because they are hurt about those niggers with AIDS that he killed.
But not all the absent fathers are bad people just because they are globally wanted for distribution of child pornography… This man loves mathematics, exercising, performing erotic auto-asphyxiation in churches, and spoiling the end of movies in Facebook. But can you really blame him? I still love my dear papa.
“Family is first.” He said before submitting himself to a transgender operation. When he arrived at the house I left him at the barn because he now looks more like a horse than my actual horse.
My mother still talks nice about him. “His determination was key, he frequently managed to cum before the other parents at the park noticed. That really needs, like, skill.”
I cannot hold a grudge my whole life. I now see her and think he once was a boy and not an ugly ass woman.
-I love you papa, good luck banging those water melons. BTW, one of your naked kids in the basement left the house, the one who is missing an ear.
The following content is an email written by my girlfriend. The recipient is me. Entitled: No subject.
I quit.
Special Thanks to Nay Cabrales for helping me with this blog’s picture.
