Godammit, I’m Mad!

My father is a man who likes to get married and have children. Of my five half-siblings, I have only bonded with Michael, possibly because we were the “black sheep” of our families or maybe just because he’s so lovable.

Michael has more tattoos that you’ll ever want to see. Not only that, he is a butcher. Meat is his calling.

When my teenager was little and I got a full-time job, Michael took care of him every day. When anyone has hurt me, Michael has offered to kill them.  Once, he married my best friend, but they were just being silly and now they know better.

Michael came to visit over the weekend and he brought his beautiful girlfriend Shelly, who is studying engineering and drives a big motorcycle. She is a great girl. I didn’t realize the extent of her greatness until she sent me this picture of a dead squirrel she saw in the street near my house!

May Shelly and Michael be together forever, and may all squirrels be dead ones!

*UPDATE:

Michael just got his own “ma haine dure” tattoo, as well as an International No symbol that should cover everything else. Great job, Mike! xo

Today, Scott the Physical Therapist put Max in a special chair and took him outside to get some fresh air.

We joined this nice couple, who were also enjoying some sunlight. They have been married for 61 years and she has been staying by his side for 12 hours every day. He had a massive stroke and has already spent weeks at a real hospital before being transferred to the illustrious facility above.

As we breathed in the fresh air, Max and I were annoyed by the brazen squirrels who came much too close to us, even perching on my bench. As their number climbed to four, Max worried that they might bite his bare toes, a definite danger given the aggressiveness of the squirrels, who some morons in the “hospital” have encouraged by feeding them nuts and cookies.

I swung my walker at the vermin, yelling “Fuck off!” when “Scram!” had no impact whatsoever.

The old man mentioned the Boston Celtics, and his wife told him, “Come on, you know we don’t like the Celtics, we’re Dodgers fans!”  He seemed preoccupied with the number 555, but when she asked him if he wanted to go back inside, he answered graciously: “Oh yes, I would very much like that.”

People, are we learning anything from all this? Are we learning that life and health are incredibly fragile? That love is all that matters? That in one moment, your entire world can be turned upside down forever? That human kindness is a precious commodity? That shoes are irrelevant, as are virtually all other consumer goods?

I am still trying to formulate a response to all the unwelcome input that keeps assaulting my consciousness. I never knew the danger of bed sores, for example. I never thought much about total helplessness.

I do know that I fucking hate squirrels. Why do people persist in thinking they’re cute? All they do is spread disease and chew through electrical wiring. I genuinely despise them. I need a means of keeping them at a distance, to protect Max’s toes and my own sanity.

What can I bring to the hospital to repel the squirrels, besides rat poison? Any ideas?