THOSE SPOILED BRATS

by Dwayne Hoover

Why would I give those spoiled brats a gawwwdam thing? They haven’t worked a single day in their charmed lives. I remember trying to get them to do some chores around the house or go outside and do some yard work and it was nothing but pissing and moaning. So yeah, of course I spend all my hard-earned money in retirement. It’s my money, I earned it with blood sweat and tears and putting up with every upper management piece of crap that was half my age who knew jack freaking squat about the job.
 
It’s nothing from them but “what are you going to do to help with your grandkid’s college fund?’’ or “can you help us with this mortgage payment dad?” or “can we leave the kids with you for a few days so me and my husband can have a few days with ourselves please?”. Oh those little snots of grandkids I have; fat, sickly, drooling and a couple of them brown. Faces drooping and wet while staring at their stupid phones the entire time we take them to Applebees to eat, on my dime of course. I’d be surprised if they even know what I look like! Rude, no manners, can barely speak English and cuss worse than the guy I served overseas with in Guam. Let me empty my bank account for the future college courses they are going to drop for failing grade later, I’ll get right on it.

Always looking for a handout when I spent my entire good years of my life working overtime to give them all a hand up. Always complaining about the economy and how expensive everything is. Inflation this, stagnant wages that, diversity quotas and sex education classes at their kid’s schools. I had our first house when I was 26 and paid for two cars and that was when the peanut farmer doofus was President. On and on and on about how I never help them when they are having trouble making ends meet when they have two jobs between them, my married daughter and her husband anyway. My loser son on the other hand I think is a homosexual because he’s 45 and still hasn’t gotten married. I haven’t talked to that pee oh ess in 15 years though. He calls, once in a while, on Easter or July 4th, usually after he’s tied a few off, (you can hear it in his voice).  

Maybe if they didn’t have $450 phone bills and are subscribed to every streaming service and get Starbucks all the damn time then they could probably afford their mortgage. It’s not my problem they don’t know how to manage their money. What are they going to do for retirement? My daughter came complaining to me about some Indian lady taking the promotion she was expecting to get, I told her if she worked harder and wasn’t busy not minding her own business, she would’ve gotten it. Sour grapes was my assessment. She says it’s because her boss is also an Indian. Always someone else’s fault! Just like when she was a little girl and blamed not getting on the cheerleading team because all the moms were on the PTA and me and her mom could care less. If she sat in on one of those meetings she’d know how useless and time wasting all that crap was.

I need a drink, mainly because this weekend instead of going to the casino with my Filipino girlfriend I agreed to watch my daughter’s little bastards instead. 3 boys from two dads and her current husband isn’t one of them. He’s a saint for putting up with the dark one, he’s a menace, he’ll be behind bars with a rap sheet well before he’s old enough to drink. I have to lock up everything when he’s around, last time he was here he stole my 4 megapixel LG digital camera and my Zune I use when I go fishing! When my wife was alive, bless her heart, she treated all those kids like they had wings, halos and harps. When they are around me they wield pitchforks and set all the combustibles on fire. Maybe I would take them to a movie if they weren’t $35 a ticket plus the ridiculous cost of all the food they bring you now. At least they let you tie one off at theaters now but you still can’t have a freaking smoke. Just will have to make the best of it. It’s not easy being the only sane and responsible member of this family.