Nobody wants to see their old man breathing out of some tank and going into the hospital to die sky-high on morphine and he’s not eating a bite of the red-flavored Jell-O they serve for dinner. I mean, after you’re born it’s not like you get a choice. But love…I mean you have to love your old man. My old lady, who abandoned us, he says she hated that joke so maybe I inherited her lack of humor. Me, my teachers still haven’t covered long division and all the multiple-cation tables so it’s not my old man’s fault I don’t know what’s “cum.” My whole growing up I figure I’m just too ignorant to appreciate a good joke. So when my old man says, “What do you get when you cross a pig with Count Dracula?”…I knew to never ask, “What’s a ‘Count Dracula’?” I’d just get a big laugh ready for when he tells me, “A ‘Ham-pire’!”Īnd I say, “Who’s there?” And he says, “Radio.”Īnd I say, “Radio who?” And he’s ALREADY started to bust a gut when he says, “Radio not I’m going to cum in your mouth…” Then-what the hell-I just keep laughing. The punch line is “He sent it by ‘ear mail,’ ” but being seven years old, I was still stuck back on not knowing who van Gogh is or what’s a whore, and nothing kills a joke faster than asking my old man to explain himself. He used to ask me, “When that Vinnie van Gogh cut off his ear and sent it to the whore he was so crazy about, how’d he send it?” All’s my old man will say about her is how she was a “Real Looker” who just couldn’t take a joke. By “Old Lady” my guess is he means my mom who ran away and left us. I didn’t know Switzerland from Shinola, but I want for my old man to love me so I learned to laugh. I was so stupid, I was seven years old and still stuck in the first grade. Back when I was his little Charlie McCarthy, the whole time I was growing up, he used to ask me, “Knock-knock?”Īnd he’d say, “Wow, I didn’t know you could yodel!”
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Maybe his sense of humor is a talent I didn’t inherit. It’s my fault if this doesn’t come across, but my old man is funnier than he sounds. The man’s skinny as a Halloween skeleton and bald and going to be dead by six weeks so it don’t matter what he says, folks are going to hee-haw like donkeys just out of their genuine affection for him.īut, seriously, I’m not doing him justice. Understand me: My old man is no Uncle Milty. He walks into the barbershop dragging that pressurized cylinder of oxygen with the tube of it going up and looping around his nose, over his ears, and around his bald head, and he says, “Just a little off the top, please.” And folks laugh. I mean, he’s skinny as a bald skeleton, and he’s getting to haul around one of those cylinders of oxygen under pressure, like some little version of a ball-and-chain. He’s still every Saturday down by the barbershop telling jokes even if now he’s bald as a cue ball. So they do chemotherapy, and they give him some radiation like they do even if the shit burns him up so bad on the inside he tells me that taking a piss is like passing razor blades. So the oncologist, he says, “Okay, you’ve got cancer and your jokes stink.” You’ve got six months to live…”Īnd working his eyebrows like Groucho Marx, tapping the ash from an invisible cigar, my old man says, “Six months?” He says, “I want a second opinion.” In response, the oncologist says, “It’s metastasized. He says, “Stop me if you’ve heard this one before…” The way my old man tells it, he walks into the oncologist’s office and he says, “After the chemotherapy, will I be able to play the violin?”
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Getting his hair cut was definitely a low priority.
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Down at the barbershop, it didn’t matter how many guys my father let take cuts ahead of him in line, he just wanted to sit there all Saturday and crack people up. Growing up, half the time I didn’t have a clue what his jokes were about, but I laughed anyways. What can I say? The old man loves to get a laugh. My old man, he makes everything into a Big Joke. How Monkey Got Married, Bought a House, and Found Happiness in Orlando Make something up : stories you can’t unread / by Chuck Palahniuk.-First edition. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Palahniuk, Chuck. Published in the United States by Doubleday, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.ĭOUBLEDAY and the portrayal of an anchor with a dolphin are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.ĮBook design adapted from printed book design by Michael CollicaĬover design and illustration by Rodrigo Corral Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.Īll rights reserved. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.