7 step dads & 7 years – Jim
this is the first part of a seven-post-story about seven step dads and seven years in the life of an incarnated black widow of doom. it’s about coughing, a bucket and a stroke and takes place in the outskirts of a forgotten mining town called ‘the hammer’ . . .
maintaining a good morning routine like sweeping up the driveway or a Sundays brush for the pick-up truck, cutting grass or making fresh lemonade embraces the successful start into a summer day. hello neighbor, hello neighbor! and the kids are playing with the neighbors kids – and the dogs – in the backyard, where the pool is.
an unpleasant cough breaks the silent air of a for perfection gasping suburbia. Jim’s focus leaves the unsweeped driveway and the unbrushed truck, he’s stumbling backwards, spreading particles of the inside of his tar paved lungs all over the porch. the door locks, breaking dying sun rays apart. Jim leans with his back against the wall next to the entrance. he turned 35 not too long ago, but his body is more that of someone, who has worked underground since he was 15 and who spent most of the nights above ground in bars. but that was before, long before he met Kay seven years ago and before he moved into her regular life house. the place where Jim crew up is located near the beaches. when he was younger he would swim two miles every morning, move some drugs for his dad in the early afternoon and beat up kids richer in better areas of the town to steal their things. one night he got shot, three times in the stomach, they stabbed him just to make sure, he stops fighting over two ounces of weed they stole from him. it was painful, but he wouldn’t die and after his dad took away the painkillers to sell them, the cops threw him into jail, where he learned how to be a even bigger asshole. Jim knows he’s an asshole and assholes survive. the youth near the water and all the swimming couldn’t compensate, what his dad did to him over the years, but the old man had a stroke and from that point on it didn’t matter no more. left helpless, with cookies and five cigarettes a day he often doesn’t have the (man-)power to yell at the nurses. the sequel to a story of an angry man that ended when he was 40. Jim is still 35, he’s wearing a camouflage shirt that says ‘you can’t see me’, sweatpants and slippers. his head is bold, the beard growing and he likes the cookies as much as his dad does. his educational level is somewhere between the TV’-shows ‘goldrush’ and ‘pawnographie’, some very important sources of knowledge since he dropped out of school at grade 9. but there are street skills nobody can learn from bored teachers, for these skills you have to fight for – sometimes you loose, he learned that lesson the hard way. the scares on his elbow are teeth marks from his older brother, who’d beat the shit out of him for no reason, all time. during his time as a brick laying apprentice he gained strength and his brother gave up his tooth. Jim is afraid to use the internet, he never learned it, nobody showed him how it works. smoking weed and the TV for solid 25/35 years have taken away the organic focus, that allows human beings to percept, understand, process and use devices or information that are not familiar. Jim can read, but he can’t, because he’s too anxious about the unknowing to upset his troubled mind.
lifting his heavy body off the wall he scuffles over the carpet over to the couch, aiming for his bucket and the remote control – the three factors of stability. but there’s another factor, a big energy rummaging in the open kitchen around the corner, there’s a girl, her name is Kay, he’s been living with her for seven years and she’s killing him . . .
if you’re horny now and you wanna find out, why Kay is such a bitch, wait for the second part of 7 step dads & 7 years – coming soon!View other posts by Muli Muli