After the hell of Bakersfield and the shock of finding out I'm a father, I am at the waters edge enjoying a gorgeous Fourth of July barbecue with Kwan and little Sy.
I won't say what water we're at the edge of, because my Uncle is a nut job and we want to be left alone. I will say it's deep blue and everyone is out on their boats and skis and boards and whatever they've got.
I've got red surf shorts on, and Kwan has on a very small lemon yellow bikini. With her white hair and tanning lotion, she's blinding!
Sy sits in a playpen we bought him, under the shade of an awning. He a cute baby when he isn't throwing an entire tub of potato salad at me, or snatching the cigarette out of Kwan's mouth, or crushing ants with his little play ball, eating them, and laughing with his mouth open.
He frightens us both. There's clearly something wrong with him. Can a baby really be a psychopath? But Sy is our son, apparently, and so I must love him. I do.
Funny, but a nice golden labrador retriever is growling at Sy right now from the beach chairs nearest to us. I've never seen a dog react that way. Like an earthquake is coming. The baby just laughs.
I've got the three thousand bucks I saved from my meth lab job. We can make a fresh start with that. I don't know what kind of relationship we'll have. Kwan and I both decided forget our troubles and relax today. It's such gorgeous weather and Sarah Palin has quite her job. All is right with the world for a few hours. I'm going for a swim, and then tonight...fireworks!
Irv
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