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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 254
was fed up. To no one‟s surprise, at least, not mine, Nancy was on the porch when I got
there. I imagine, when she said she‟d called me and it knew why I was coming into town
madder than hell, that David thing told her to make me go away when I arrived.
Fat chance of that, asshole! I ran up on the porch, only to discover that David
thing had locked the door. It knew I was pissed. Rather than waste time, I kicked in the
door. When it saw me, that David thing ran like hell through the kitchen to the back door
and made it almost outside.
Bad leg and all, I caught up when it was going out the back door. The 1970
Chevelle Malibu SS in the driveway was only a few feet from the door. I slugged it once
on the jaw and knocked that David thing across the trunk onto the ground, then lifted it
up and slammed it against the car. “If you really wanna commit suicide, asshole, just tell
someone again that‟s what you plan to do. Then, have that person tell me. When I hear
it, I‟m gonna come kill you myself, just so I don‟t have to listen to anymore of your lousy
fucking whining!” Then I hit it in the face to make sure it‟d have a good reason to cry
now, since it started doing that when I slammed it against the fender.
I looked at it in disgust. “I can‟t stand you, you motherfucker, and I don‟t ever
want to see you again. If you come by Mom‟s and I‟m there, just keep going. I don‟t
even want to see your ugly fuckin‟ face!” TJ and I left. I never stopped trembling with
rage until after we were back at home.
In all the years I knew it, that David thing never made more than $25,000 in any
given year, if that much. It drove truck for Triquet Paper for a few years, then switched
to working in pest control. I thought that was odd since that David thing was deathly
allergic to bee and wasp stings. It almost died once in my car when a bee stung it on the
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