Impeccable Timing

I have not talked to my Dad in about two years now. In this time I have sent one letter and received one letter in reply. The fucker called me last night. Fortunately, or not, depending upon how you look at it, I missed the call. I think that even if I had got to my phone to see the incoming call I wouldn’t have answered it, or maybe I would. I don’t know. But I think I wouldn’t have answered it. I don’t have anything I want to say to him, I don’t have anything I need to say to him, except perhaps fuck off and die, or just fuck off, or perhaps just die. There isn’t anything else I want to say, and I’d prefer to avoid the Jesus loves you the lord will save you bullshit fuckyoumotherfuckingcuntplzdiekthx crap that he’d inevitable spout in my direction. I’m an Atheist, he’s a fucking Bible Humping Moron. The only thing we have in common is a surname.

So that timing thing. Things aren’t great at home right now for reasons I won’t get in to right now, and the last thing I need is fuckhead trying to stick his beak in right now. Perhaps he feels guilty, perhaps it is because Christmas is coming, perhaps he was bored. Perhaps it was finally time for his Son to fit into his fucking schedule. Perhaps he has realised the error of his ways, has understand how much of a fucking wanker he is, and wishes to make amends. Perhaps I don’t give a fuck.

Then, and this is the real killer, I get a call this morning from an unknown number which I answer;

Hello?

Is that Alan?

Yes, who’s this?

You don’t know me-

So what do you want?

I’m Amanda, a friend of your Dad he tried to call you last-

I know, what do you want?

I saw the look on his face when you didn’t answer.

I don’t care. Why are you calling me?

It isn’t my business, but your Dad wanted-

You’re right. It isn’t your business. Good bye.

What the fuck do these people want with me? If I wanted to speak to the fuck I would have returned his call last night instead of just looking at it, seeing a missed call, and putting the phone back down again. You can’t just walk into someone’s life after two years because you feel like it. I tried to make contact with you less than six months with you and I got the Arrogant Christian Father version of a big fat fuck off. Well the gloves are off now pal, and you can kindly go and fuck yourself from behind with a broom shaft. When you die I’ll come and find you then and piss on your grave.


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