Happy Endings
You know where you can shove that, right?
Winning is everything. Now that I’m finally winning I could not possibly care less about how I’m doing it. A decent union job is the end of the rainbow for guys like me and I got one.
I am not some callous shit, though, so don’t be drawing any conclusions. You do that, you know. All you women do. A guy finally gets it together, is finally on top and the women are just lining up to knock him down. The only thing most women hate more than a loser is a guy who’s killing it and happy about it.
I was raised by a stand-up guy but, let’s face it, Marty was a loser. And he remained a loser because he toed the line with my mother. Sheila should of been a man. Poor Marty never could be the man in his own house with her around. Maybe he was ok with that but it sure sent one messed-up set of messages to me and my little brother, Sammy. I mean, look at Sammy; in and out of rehabs, never married, never held a real job. I was the one who had to show him what being a man was all about. For all the good that’s done.
Veronica will be home by now. It’s taking every bit of will power I can muster to not call her about this new job. I’m nearly as bad as Marty. Wait. No, strike that. I used to be nearly that bad. But that’s changed. Today, I turned the corner and left that loser crap behind me. I…
