"All day long I listen to people give me excuses why they can't work. My legs hurt. My back aches. I'm only four. The sooner he learns life isn't handed to him on a silver platter, the better."
We are all a bunch of spoiled sumbitches. That's what Earl Cross would tell us if we were his child and damn if he wouldn't be right. Who are we to want our materialistic things like choo-choo trains and stuff like hugs and kind words like "good job." We're just lucky to have things like sight, and limbs. Those are our gifts and we should be thankful for them. You want Earl's love, go chop meat for 22 hours with a bad back and a displaced hip and then maybe, just maybe he'll ask you to hold his cigarette while he takes a crap. Ask for him to read you a bedtime story and chances are you'll be greeted with the back of his butcher-blood soaked hand. Acknowledgement from Earl is a shove in the hallway while he's on his way out the door. Or a punch in the arm for not getting him a cold beer fast enough. Those are the moments you cherish. Those are the moments you hold on to for years.
Happy Father's Day Earl. As far as rotten bastards go, you're the rotteny bastardeous.