06 8 / 2010

“Lam blast it, Buford!” my old man screamed from the front porch.  “I told you I didn’t want none of them laze-about friends of your’n comin’ here!  They’re a bunch of good for nothin’s!”

“Dad,” I said back very calmly, “they’re right here and can hear you.”

“Well,” he said puffing up even more, “I hope they can hear me, ‘cause they’re a bunch of trash!”

“You’re talking about them as though they weren’t here, Dad.  They’re people, just like you and me, and have emotions, just like you and me, though theirs might be a little more complex than just all-out hatred and disdain.”  Turning back to my friends, I said, “C’mon, fellas.  There’s no sense in trying to reason with him.”