My father was gone. I went up to his suite, not to see him, but to figure out if he had been gone or left in a hurry. It looked like a tornado had visited so I assume he started packing as soon as he heard I was coming. I spit in his open underwear drawer. I know that’s nuts but I always try to leave a little something for the asshole on my visits.
Monika Basile, Quietly Crazy
divorce, father, jerk