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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 24
on a weekend afternoon, she told him to go piss up a rope. That made no sense, but I was
always careful enough to look it over before I picked up any rope I found.
Okay, I mentioned a guy. Someone who got past me unseen. It was always when
Dad gave an order and I knew Mom didn‟t like it. That night, some guy with a real
whiny voice would get inside their bedroom and beg someone for something. He‟d
whine and whine, and whimper and wail, the sniveling bastard. It was like he‟d die if he
didn‟t get his own way.
I knew that voice wasn‟t Mom, „cause she made a very soft and pretty sound
when she talked. I knew it wasn‟t Dad, because his voice was deeper than that. It was
more like a choir boy who‟d been kicked in the nuts one time too many and all his words
were squeaky. There was only one thing that kept me from going into their bedroom and
using my Tonka truck to brain that crybaby asshole. He was evidently lobbying for
something I still thought I wanted.
I vacillated back and forth on Bootsie, long gone by now. Damned near two
years, ever since they bought that David thing. Although I hated cats, and would until the
last day of my life, Bootsie was special. She was different than all the other cats. She‟d
never hurt me, and I knew it.
Jumping ahead a couple decades, substitute any woman‟s name for my cat‟s and
you‟ll see just how well women have guys trained. Those are the same words to be heard
from some dipshit who just got his clock cleaned in divorce court when he defends the
fact he‟s gonna marry some other woman. You girls are smart, damn it. Very, very
smart. Oh, and adroit, as well.
Anyway, the cause this lobbyist was espousing is what kept me from banging the
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