the most I ever saw my dad snort was an eight-ball, but never more than a large bong load in the company of no more than two or three hookers, but I never EVER saw him down Johnny Walker Blue ..as he was partial to Black but usually could only afford Red, as heroin was an expensive habit even then. Sometimes when I would wake up at one in the afternoon in a sweaty dogpile of sticky naked hookers (I was instructed to call auntie) and my dad, the dildo still protruding from that place on him I still can’t think about, I would wonder: Is this all too crazy, this quality time with dad, are we normal or is this the twisted life of a Korean War Recon killer after he’d returned to the states without his privilege to string yellow ears on sinew and wear it as regalia? ..Am I the victim of a deranged product of warmongering statisticians and bankers who never dirty their hands but send thousands to die before they ever get a chance to learn to live? …Am I the unconscious catalyst for such inflicted humanity, ..or is this just a father’s love for a son......and the world around us is going to hell in a hand basket?