#9 Fitted For My Jumper

"Greg, let's go through this again. If I don't have something to work with here, you'll do six months easy."
"What do you want me to say, Doc?" I asked.
"Anything. Anything you think I'll believe. If I think it's even remotely possible, I can get them to buy it."
I turned my head to face the Doc. I never looked at him during a session, always laid back and kept my eyes forward. But this was the first time he had been so blunt about fabricating a story to keep me outta jail.
"What are ya saying, Doc? To lie?"
"Yes, damn it!" he yelled. "Lie. Make it up. And hurry. If you don't turn yourself in soon they'll come here straight away. Take you right off that couch."
"Ah, you're only worried about your reputation. That's why your so worked up!"
"Now Greg, that's the most..."
"The most truthful thing I've said in three years! Admit it! That's a fact, Dad. You can't have a son in jail and still attend all your conferences and luncheons."
"Greg!"
"That's right! They'll be whispering at the bar, in the coat room and in the can. They'll say, "It's a shame that Waters can't manage that kid of his. Will probably cost him a Joseph Zubin award." Another will answer, "No wonder his wife took off. Probably failed in the bedroom, too."
My father stood up and looked down at me. I had a couple more zingers but the look on his face held my silent. He looked wounded. Like he had just been shot in the belly and knew he was gonna be dead in half an hour. He walked across the room and opened the door that led out back.
"You'd better go. At least you'll have a head start. "
"But what about my story?"
"I'll take care of that. Go. Go before I lose my temper."
I laughed at him as I got up. "Lose your temper?"
I walked over to him and got real close. I didn't care that I had hurt him. "Lose your temper? You have to care enough about people to lose your temper and make it feel real, Dad. When was the last time you felt anything for me, huh?"
He looked right back at me and said, "Whenever it was, it will certainly be the last time. Now. Go."

It was no use to run or hide. They would find me this time. I would just have to try and do my time as clean and quiet as I could. I had a craving for a greasy burger so I drove to a fast food joint. I settled into a booth facing the corner, trying to stay as out of the way as possible.
Some guy in his twenties comes in with two kids who must've been around 4 or 5 years old. The two of them ran amok no matter what their old man said to 'em. They finally got their food and sat down near me. I felt bad for the dude, in a way.That is, until I announced his ignorance.
One of his wild things asked, "Daddy, how come some people use the drive-thru?
The father said, "Because some people are real lazy. They are too lazy to get out of their cars and walk inside to order food. Now finish those fries, will ya?"
I didn't even hesitate. My meal finished, it was time to go anyway. So I grabbed my red plastic tray and slowed as I passed their table.
"Hey buddy," I said, "Do you know why people bring children to fast food restaurants?"
He looked at me with a dead stare. A stare that broadcast how perplexed he was that a total stranger would ask him a question.
When he didn't respond I said,"They take them to fast food places 'cause their too lazy to cook at home and secretly want to see their children become fat and sick from the preservatives and fillers."
If the dudes chin could have unhinged and fell on the table it would have. I walked on. I heard his kids ask him, "Why do you secretly want us to get sick, Daddy? Mommy says you are lazy all the time. Why didn't you say something to that man?"
I chuckled as I hit the crash bar on the door and jogged to my car. Time to get as far as I could before it was over.