A Broken Man, a Beautiful Boy, and a Dirty Seatbelt

Howdy friends and prospective employers, here’s a picture of me:

Look at me. My face is caught in some remote grimace, with the tensions of the day and this particular McDonalds drivethrough evident in my flat, strained expression. Meanwhile my son smiles with the apple-cheeked innocence of youth, his mind no doubt alight with fanciful thoughts of racecars or Berry Berry Kix or the color yellow.

Though physically we are separated by only an arm’s length, emotionally we are miles apart. He, the bouncing naif, and I, the stooped and pockmarked warhorse. If he is the galloping colt, then I am the toothless old stallion on my way to a lunchdate with the muzzle of a shotgun.

My point in showing you this photograph is not to go on again about how life has left me a morose, vacant-eyed automaton. That much is self-evident, and I take comfort in knowing that it will likely all be over soon when I get clipped by a city bus while out on a jog, or meet some other similarly pointless and arbitrary death. Instead, my point is to show off the sweetness of my boy and the sleek interior of my sensible Hyundai.

I order to you to look upon both with a faraway smile, your lips slightly parted in tender amazement, and your eyes slightly crossed with bitter envy.

Well, that’s all the time I’ve got for tonight. If any of you would like to send me a photos of yourself going to the bathroom, I’ll be happy to post them here and offer some accompanying philosophical ruminations. I think that’s going to become a hot new thing on the internet.

Now I’m off to go raise my son to become a man of sturdy morals and stout character, as soon as I find where he wandered off to.

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2 Responses to A Broken Man, a Beautiful Boy, and a Dirty Seatbelt

  1. John says:

    Did the internet overlords purge butterfingerteeth from existence?

  2. peter says:

    No, I just bumped it down into the archives. I reserve the right to do that occasionally.

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