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

Bill Cady, The Early Years … by Bill Cady 93
the guy who ended up with her. You lucky son-of-a-bitch, you got better than you
deserve, so be damned nice to that lady. She‟s a class act.
Back to the Bobby Thompson/Bob Haywood event. I was “skunker than a drunk”
that night, and apparently got mad at myself. I think it was a combination of letting
myself get so shitfaced, and the embarrassment of having everyone who mattered see
Bob knock me flat on my ass.
Oh, and I was a little pissed at Judy, too.
I took out my frustration on some trees over by McDonald‟s. I don‟t know what
the trees told their Moms, but I told mine I fell and scraped my hands. Every knuckle on
both hands. I don‟t think she believed me.
Hold on, it gets worse. I had a nine o‟clock curfew, which I always thought was
ridiculous. Nothing any kid wanted to go to was ever over early enough to be done and
get home by nine. Since it was a school dance, they extended it to eleven that night.
Believe it or not, when I staggered onto the porch somewhere after two in the
morning, they were both still up. Don‟t old people ever get tired and go to bed, for
Christ‟s sake? I mean, damn, it’s late! You guys should be in Shut what? Oh, my
mouth. Gotcha.
There was puke all over the front of my jacket and pants. Probably on my face
and in my hair, too. I know I stunk terribly from all that booze. They more than likely
smelled me when I was still on the sidewalk and the door was closed. I had the dry
heaves after I got home, but there was nothing left in my gut to puke up. It was empty.
That night, my old man made one of the few wise parenting decisions of his life.
At least, as far as I knew about. Our school pictures were being taken the next morning.
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