Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - BOOCarz

“It wasn’t me who gave up!” he said a little too
loudly, then looked down, embarrassed and swirled
the beer in his glass. “It’s just that—the truth is, I think
your grandpa didn’t know how to be a dad, but he felt
like he had to be one anyway, because none of his
brothers or sisters survived the war. So he dealt with it
by being gone all the time—on hunting trips, business
trips, you name it. And even when he was around, it
was like he wasn’t.”
“Is this about that one Halloween?”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know—from the picture.”
It was an old story, and it went like this: It was
Halloween. My dad was four or five years old and had
never been trick-or-treating, and Grandpa Portman
had promised to take him when he got off work. My
grandmother had bought my dad this ridiculous pink
bunny costume, and he put it on and sat by the
driveway waiting for Grandpa Portman to come home
from five o’clock until nightfall, but he never did.
Grandma was so mad that she took a picture of my
dad crying in the street just so she could show my
grandfather what a huge asshole he was. Needless to
say, that picture has long been an object of legend
among members of my family, and a great
embarrassment to my father.