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

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Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 309 CHAPTER EIGHTEEN In case you feel the room just got a little darker, don‟t call the usher just yet. It happened because I‟m going to tell you about the darkest black sheep in our entire family line, Darrel Thurston. Uncle Darrel. Or, his preference, “Unc”. He was Mom‟s older brother by a year, maybe two. Darrel was a peculiar, alcoholic, eccentric, enigmatic conundrum. Yup, Unc was a trip through all the bad words in any Thesaurus you can find. He was also one of the toughest bastards to ever hit the north end of Lansing. Ever. I recall Mom telling me about a time he got in a bar fight, I believe it was at The Grenadier, and it took six cops to subdue him. Keeping in mind they all had billy clubs, saps, riot sticks, metal flashlights, guns and handcuffs, that says a lot. The most it ever took to subdue me was three, and I was both broken hearted and drunk that night. Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 310 I liked Unc about half the time. He was also sober just about half the time. I should‟ve taken a message from that. Gotten a hint, I guess, for what my kids faced in later years. Sorry, kids. Honestly, I am, since I remember what it was like when I was in your position. When sober, only in the daytime for many years, and not before too late in the afternoon, he was a happy, humorous, gregarious man. Lots of fun and as warm hearted as anyone you‟ll ever meet. When he started drinking, not if, but when, he‟d be the same way up until someone crossed him. Intentionally, unintentionally, with purpose or by accident, it was all the same. That happy smile would leave his face. The belly laugh always so evident was gone in a heartbeat. Big, burly hands otherwise accustomed to welding would close into hammy fists, one or both of which may then come flying at the antagonist without a moment‟s notice. If there was a street brawler or barroom fighter who could whip his ass, I never saw the man. Unc was a mean, tough son-of-a-bitch. Five-ten, two-fifty, tons of muscle coated in fat, he looked a lot like a Sumo wrestler. Huge biceps, strong, thick legs, and a neck he might‟ve stolen from a pier by cutting up one of the posts. He was big, burly, and a mean drunk. It‟s a very bad thing when a mean drunk is also a frequent drunk. He had blondish-brown hair, always in a crew cut, the same way he wore it when he left the Navy in the early 40s. I‟m not sure if he ever owned a house, and I know he seldom owned a car. Houses he found by falling in love and moving in with the woman who might‟ve become his fiancée the first evening they were together, which would also be the first time they had sex, knowing Unc. Cars were an item he borrowed, too often Leviticus, Limited 33-0505963
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BILL CADY Word Count: 149,227 - At My Friend's Place

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