Things go on and on and on sometimes, you know? You think they will never change, but it's you that has the power to change them. You get so tired of the same old habits. The same old life and the same old troubles.
I, Irv Rorg, shot Uncle Vick in the chest last night at the lake where Kwan and I have been living for the past month.
We were sitting by the mobile home we had rented, Kwan and I, and Sy the baby. We were roasting wienies (Sy's favorite food) and the baby was kicking the stuffing out of his Winnie the Pooh doll in his crib after earlier having tried to eat a pine cone.
Kwan's eyes grew wide as quarters and she elbowed me hard and we stared out at the dark pine trees and there was Uncle Vick breaking through the shrubbery in the firelight and he had a huge handgun in his right hand.
The baby shouted "Da Da!" when Vick got up to the fire. When Vick noticed the child and made eye contact and cooing noises, I kicked the gun from his hand and rolled on the ground and picked it up. Kwan grabbed Sy and staggered backwards.
The baby screamed and clutched for Vick. Vick took one step toward me. "Irv. I'm not your uncle. I'm your father."
And then, he grabbed for the Glock. I fired. He fell on his face next to the fire.
I threw the gun into the lake and we called the police.
Uncle Vick is in the Emergency Room here in South Lake Tahoe. They say he won't live long. The bullet punctured a lung.
Why would he say he was my father?
I was tired of the same old shit, and now I got my wish, some new shit!
Thank God, Kwan is here. Sy won't interact with us now. The baby just sits in his stroller and once he crossed his little arms. He won't even look at us.
What have I done?
Irv
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