"Yeah."
"House painting?"
"Yeah."
"Roofing?"
"I was in the roofer's union. We drank like mad. The hardest thing to find on a roofing crew is a driver's license. Everybody had a DUI."
Fifty-eight-years-old, Kyle is divorced and, until very recently, didn't even know he had a daughter, "I half suspected it, but she didn't call me until six months ago."
"She has been in town all this time?"
"Yeah, and so has her mother. She wasn't my girlfriend or anything. It was just a bag of coke and some Quaaludes. You can get a lot of sex that way. I was twenty-years-old."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Kyle, we've heard it all before," Kelly, the bartender, interjected.
"So was it pretty emotional?"
"No, I don't get emotional. We had breakfast. When she said she didn't drink or smoke, I said, 'You can't be my daughter!'" Kyle chuckled. "But we did the swab test and everything, and she is my daughter. Two weeks ago, I took her to a family reunion and introduced her to everybody. A bunch of them already knew her."
"They hadn't known she was a blood relative, though," I laughed.
"Yeah. My daughter is a hair dresser, and her cousin works right across the street at a funeral home. They have known each other forever. When I die, my daughter can have the house. My life is three fourths over."
"But you might live to be a hundred!"
"I will probably die at 70 or so. My ma died at 72. If I can't wipe my own butts, I won't be happy. I'm already giving my daughter stuff, but she doesn't want the piano. She has no sons, so I can't give my guns away."
When the news came on, Kyle declared, "We shouldn't be in the Middle East! Did you know that it costs us four million an hour to be in Afghanistan? Just think of what that could do for our senior citizens. If we would feed people instead of killing them, we'd be fine." Then, "The planet is way overpopulated. Soon enough, we'll have eight billion people."
"House painting?"
"Yeah."
"Roofing?"
Fifty-eight-years-old, Kyle is divorced and, until very recently, didn't even know he had a daughter, "I half suspected it, but she didn't call me until six months ago."
"She has been in town all this time?"
"Yeah, and so has her mother. She wasn't my girlfriend or anything. It was just a bag of coke and some Quaaludes. You can get a lot of sex that way. I was twenty-years-old."
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, Kyle, we've heard it all before," Kelly, the bartender, interjected.
"So was it pretty emotional?"
"No, I don't get emotional. We had breakfast. When she said she didn't drink or smoke, I said, 'You can't be my daughter!'" Kyle chuckled. "But we did the swab test and everything, and she is my daughter. Two weeks ago, I took her to a family reunion and introduced her to everybody. A bunch of them already knew her."
"They hadn't known she was a blood relative, though," I laughed.
"Yeah. My daughter is a hair dresser, and her cousin works right across the street at a funeral home. They have known each other forever. When I die, my daughter can have the house. My life is three fourths over."
"But you might live to be a hundred!"
"I will probably die at 70 or so. My ma died at 72. If I can't wipe my own butts, I won't be happy. I'm already giving my daughter stuff, but she doesn't want the piano. She has no sons, so I can't give my guns away."
When the news came on, Kyle declared, "We shouldn't be in the Middle East! Did you know that it costs us four million an hour to be in Afghanistan? Just think of what that could do for our senior citizens. If we would feed people instead of killing them, we'd be fine." Then, "The planet is way overpopulated. Soon enough, we'll have eight billion people."
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