"You ever hit your kid?" I randomly asked this dad that was standing next to me at the playground.
No answer. Maybe it wasn't provocative enough…"You ever HIT YOUR KID WITH A STICK!?" I asked verging on the hysterical.
This time he heard...looked nervous. His eyes looked at me and quickly looked away, not liking what he saw…true i had just been let out of the drunk tank and was looking a little bloodshot in the eyes…my aura looking a bit black…the cocaine still lingering...and true i didn't actually have a kid with me at the playground…a rest stop on my way home…where my wife was ready to beat the shit out of me with a stick.
I stared at him waiting for an answer…
"God forbid," he managed.
A religious man…good…easier to fuck with.
"Ever think about it?"
"What?"
"Disciplining your kid with a stick…a branch…"
"Jesus."
"Yeah i bet if Jesus had a kid he would've used a stick."
His face scrunched up like he was taking a dump.
"I mean, Christ…haha…get it…i mean, think about it…our parents whipped us and that's only one generation ago, imagine 2,000 years ago!…two thousand years ago, where they fucking put people up on crucifixes to die from exposure…vultures picking out their eyeballs!"
He took a big swig out of his Starbucks coffee…clearly this conversation was verging into where the fuck is my wife…i gotta find her and the kid and get the fuck out of here.
But I could care less, I was sick of these playground dads and their conversations of iPhones and schooling choices…mortgage rates and the pros and cons of having a second kid…
"C'mon, don't tell me you never thought of it…your tired and stressed and your kids being a total fucking brat…don't tell me you never thought about dropping him over your knee and just bringing the pain…just letting him have it…teaching him a fucking lesson he won't soon forget…shit would be therapeutic for all involved right!?
He took another swig…choked and spilled coffee onto his white Nike shirt.
"I mean," I continued, "cause we're not that far removed from that shit right? It's still in our DNA…from our parents…I remember my mom laid into me with a belt one time for stealing five bucks out of her purse…belt buckle side too…just ripped the shit out of me…i remember the blood in the bathtub after…you ever get whipped?"
"God no."
"God does worse things bro…look at what that Islamic State group is doing in the name of a God right now…chopping peoples fucking heads off!!"
He looked pale…the blood draining away…like i was sucking on him…sucking on him like a fucking Vampire.
"I just don't think he should be suspended for that shit though…"
"Who?"
"Adrian Peterson?…the Minnesota Vikings running back…what…never heard of him!…fucking kidding me…dude's son was murdered last year and now he gets in shit for whipping his kid with a branch…fucked up thing is he's on my fantasy team and if he gets suspended i'm fucked…and i was banking on that fantasy pool to pay off a couple of outstanding debts, if you get my drift…and while we're talking…what do you think of that Ray Rice beating up his wife in the elevator…"
the end.
