Can't We All Get Along? said No Serial Killer Ever...

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Chapter 17 - Not Your Normal Oil Change

If anyone had a routine, it was my father. Every fourth Saturday of each month, he would change the oil in his car. He had a brown Oldsmobile, four door sedan that he drove all the time. He was in sales so he drove a certain route each week, each differently due to what area he was covering. I suppose he put three to four thousand miles on that car every four weeks or so as some point in my childhood, I had heard after that much mileage is when you were supposed to change the car’s oil. He never, ever allowed me to use any of his tools, but I would watch him change the oil and stuff sometimes as I thought it was pretty cool. As my disgust for him grew, so did my wanting not to be anywhere around him, even when he was changing the oil.

My mom went out of town to visit her sister as she would do every so often one weekend. On those weekends when she would leave, I would be stuck home alone with one asshole dad. This weekend was no different.

Dad always changed the oil and filter in the garage with the garage door down. It was his routine. He had this mat that he would carefully lay out on the floor and lay on it and then he would raise the car with one of those handled jacks that you pump up with the long, straight rod that goes into the end of the jack. You know the type, where you twist the end to let out the pressure and the car will come down.

This particular Saturday, he was also rotating the wheels and tires as he would do every so often when changing the oil. How lucky for me I thought.

“Whatcha doing?” I asked like I cared.

“What do you think I’m doing?” He replied sarcastically.

“Changing the oil?” I said like I was asking if I was correct in saying that.

Yes!” Asshole replied.

“Well, why are the wheels off?” I asked like I wanted to know why the wheels were off his piece of crap car.

“Because I’m rotating the fucking…”

And that’s the last understandable words I ever heard from the asshole that I was unfortunate to have as a father. Oh yea, his name was Ray. Ray Williams.

I had put my hand on the lever you twist to lower the jack as I was asking him about the wheels. He didn’t see me put my hand there. I had practiced raising and lowering mom’s car over and

over during the previous month to get a feel of the twist of the handle. I could close my eyes and know exactly how much to twist and how much it would lower along with how fast the car would come down. It was a pretty simple device. Twist a little to the left, and it allowed the jack to release and lower whatever is lifted up on the jack. Twist a hair back to the right and the jack stops the vehicle from coming down. Easy.

So, that’s what I did. I twisted to the left.

My dad saw the car coming down and tried to move out of the way but he moved his head right underneath the disc brakes and it pinned his head immediately to the ground. How perfect this was becoming I thought. I stopped the car coming down completely as it was pushing down on his skull and he couldn’t move anything except he was flopping his one free arm and legs around. I think I heard his skull starting to crack a little bit as he flopped there in front of me on his nice mat.

He couldn’t talk but was mumbling something as he was staring at me confused.

“What’s that you are saying Dad? That looks like it hurts really bad dad. This is for sure going to leave a nasty scar. Wait, wait wait... What , do , we , have , here???” I said somewhat surprised at what I was seeing

“Is that a tear running down your face?” “Is that a fucking tear I see???” I asked sarcastically.

“Oh hell no dad, we can’t have that!! What are you,,, a fucking girl?” I said as the tear mixed with a little blood slowly streaked down from the corner of his eye towards his ear that was pinned to the ground.

“You know what. I thought I had a lot to say to you but actually, I only have one thing to say to you after sixteen miserable years of you being the biggest prick dad a son could have!”

I put my hand on the jack in front of him. His eyes got as big as Bryan’s did. I took a strong grip on the lever, his eyes got even bigger. I smiled the biggest happiest, proud grin I had ever produced.

I have a little rhyme I made up special just for you dad and this is how it goes. You may know it so feel free to sing along with me if you want.

Roses are Red I put my other hand on the jack.

“Come on dad, I know you know it!”

Violets are BlueIf his eyes could talk, they were screaming, “PLEASE NO!”

“I bet you don’t know the next line Dad. It is real simple. I made it up all by myself. It goes like this…”


And then, well then,,,

I twisted as hard as I could on the lever,

All the way to the fucking left…

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