worst Christmas ever

well...seeing as how im still not doing anything yet, i figure i'll tell you curious minds the origin of my sincere disdain for Tarrance Sr.

christmas eve...im not exactly sure of the year but it was Christmas eve. my family and i were in Gary, Indiana, my birthplace, for a funeral. a funeral for my Uncle Fred whim i had just met maybe the year before. the funeral was this day...so it goes without saying that this was already a dark Christmas. did i cry during the funeral? no, only to pretend to be strong for my relatives around. i couldnt have been much older than thirteen. playing adult and holding my aunt in my arms like she could really feel my strength. i can laugh now. but inside my soul was burning under a bright blue flame.

that night i spoke to the one man that i loved more than life itself, Tarrance Sr. he promised me that he would pick me up the next day, Christmas. i was so excited. that was my idol. my mother and step-father often criticized him and told me such horrible stories of him all of which only led me to despise them. how dare they speak ill will of my father? my hero?! especially my mother who at one time liked him enough to fuck him and produce me. the nerve. when i told them my plans for the next day...they began their rants...the nerve.

Christmas came...presents were opened and enjoyed. but nothing was too gleeful. i realized that i only saw some of these relatives because of this funeral. and again i began to burn.
but Tarrance came to my rescue and i gladly left to hop in his blood red suburban. i wanted to hug him, but i had to be hard in front of him, so i withdrew the urge. his hazel eyes always put me at ease. but they were different this time...there was no red tint behind them. he was sober...and i was happy.

we drove to pick up a young girl, four years my junior. as he explained later on, she was my sister. never had i heard from her before...or again. i cant even recall her name...cey-something...key-something or some shit. with Tupac blasting...we drove more. to Bubba jan's (his mother) house. my new sister and i taught them how to harlem shake (which was big at the time) and other new dances.

in essence, we had a great time...

finally, after a few more stops we went to one of Tarrance senior's friend's house. i was the only child my age there, all the others were either younger or old enough to drink.

the biggest flaw of Tarrance's that was hardest to overlook, was his drinking. he always became a more violent and uncontrollable person. tonight was no different. he drank and in the midst of watching some basketball game, he decided one of his close friends was now an enemy. a fight almost broke out...he dragged my sister and i out of the house. we drove...and drove...and drove. until i fell asleep. when i awoke, he had purchased more liquor and was headed back to the house to make amends. he did and all was well...

...for about twenty minuets. this time he sent my sister and i to his truck and he was soon to follow.

once in the truck, we sat...and waited. the friend he had the altercation with, "Little-head", had come barging out the front door to his car. but he opened the passenger side door. i sat and watched in confusion. "he cant drive from that side...". but that wasnt his intention and i was too foolish to know. he quickly reemerged from his vehicle with gun in hand...my jaw dropped. not only was that my first time seeing a gun in person, but he was going to use that thing on my father.
luckily, two other men were there to wrestle the weapin from him and carry him back inside.

not long after, Tarrance mad his way to the truck...and we told him what we saw. instantly, he was infuriated and sped off. again...we drove and drove and drove. until i could no longer see anything. it had been snowing all day so the road was slippery. randomly, he stopped and asked me, "what do you think i should do?"
in my ignorance i replied, "pray about it." how cute, this young boy telling his psychotic father to pray. mistake.

he took his gun out of the arm compartment and cocked it (by this time my eyes were huge with fear). "you can pray...i'm gonna go blow his head the fuck off..." he stopped at a stop sign and all i could see was the darkness around and the snow flakes that had fallen on the windshield.
then, suddenly, he turned the gun on me and said, "and if you ever tell your mom about this, ill kill you too."

i couldnt cry...not yet.
he dropped us off at his ex-wife's house and instead of staying the night like i was going to, i had my mother rescue me. when i returned to my step-grandmother's house, i sat in her play room and cried
for hours...in the dark i cried. it was all i could do...my idol...my hero threatened my life.

that day...the worst Christmas ever...changed me forever
and embedded this Hate for the previous me....
...Tarrance Bernard Foster Sr