BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady <strong>149</strong> Christmas cards from Kathy Hatfield in Stroh customer service, I eventually had to make the switch. When I was fifty-one, I changed to Pabst Genuine Draft beer. In any event, one night when I was fifteen, I‟d already consumed at least a dozen little soldiers from the Stroh Brewery. Then, much to my regret, I had the guys drop me off at home. Fuckin‟ curfew! I hate it! I came in the house mad. <strong>My</strong> old man was still up. Asked me if I‟d been drinking. Too bad they didn‟t have that “Doh!” expression back then, or even “Duh!”, „cause I‟d‟ve used it. Instead, I made up my own response. “What the fuck do you think?” cease? Believe it or not, that didn‟t go over too well. He got pissed. Will wonders never He ordered me to bed. The Stroh‟s soldiers offered suggestions in my ear, and I took one. “Just go fuck yourself, okay?” That got him mad. Now he really ordered me to go to bed. In response, I told him to really go fuck himself. Mom was up by that time. Therefore, Dad had to stand strong and show his woman he was still the man of the house. I‟d decided I‟d had all of this shit I planned to take. I knew where the guys were going, and was willing to walk a couple miles if I had to. Anything to get the hell out of there and away from him. Mom wanted me to go to bed, but he was now playing the tough guy. He said if I didn‟t go to bed, (I now slept in the basement), he was gonna put me there. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 150 I laughed, an honest reaction. “Yeah? You, and what fuckin‟ army?” He threatened to hit me. That‟s all it took. I said I was leaving. He stood between me and the front door. Said I‟d have to get past him. “No fuckin‟ problem, asshole!” I started toward him, which I know scared the piss out of the old bastard. He was just starting to raise his fists when I ducked, grabbed his legs and did a double leg takedown. I threw him to the floor, got across his chest and slugged him once. Truthfully, I pulled the punch quite a bit or it would‟ve really trashed his face. Still, it left him with a swollen jaw, I‟d see later the next day. I only hit him once. That‟s all it took to see the fight was over. I got off him and stood. “I said I was leaving, and I meant it.” I headed out the door and eventually found my buddies after a long walk. No mention was ever made of me jacking his jaw, but that curfew bullshit was suddenly a thing of the past. So, when that David thing was a couple years older, he started with eleven o‟clock curfews, both nights. Never even told me thanks. Whiny, lucky little prick. When I got my first car, Mom helped. Aunt Bev‟s husband, “The Weasel”, sold cars at the Pontiac dealership. New and used. The girls caucused and Mom took me to see Weasel about a used car. I did pay part of the money, but my parents ended up paying most of it. So, what‟d I get? An extremely ugly, flat medium green, 1961 Ford Fairlane, four-door. An automatic with no power steering. The only freakin‟ option was an AM radio. Plus it was a damned Ford. I hated it, with one exception. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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