Dad’s drunk. Mom says we go and celebrate at Leo and Lenny’s tonight. I think she’s right.  Dad’s killing the fun..  Leo and Lenny are my uncles, and they’re giving my big sister, Kathy and Tom the party right after their wedding practice.  Dad’s dead asleep on the couch.  I grabbed his cigar, but his shirt has a hole burnt in it already.

            Its weird to see him lying there so peaceful.  Ten minutes ago he was dunking Joey’s head down the toilet and flushing and flushing.  Just because he didn’t know two times two. Gee’s, he’s five years old.  Dad stinks.  Mom is scared he’s gonna drink himself to death.  I wish he would.  

            The kids are ready, well – Joey’s still sniffling.  I’m wearing a cool hand-me-down suit and tie from my cousin Lenny, Jr., and it’s so cool.  I look hot!  I’m going to be nine, and that’ll put me two years behind Maggie.  She’s the one.  She’s mine, but she says I should grow up first.  So I will.

            Uncle Bill drives us over.  I’m wearing those hard kind of shoes.  They look “spiffy,” as Mom would say. 

            We get to the deli, and its hugs, hugs, and more hugs from Uncle Leo and Lenny in their crisp red butcher aprons.  “Hey, there, Davey, how you doin’?” Leo’s talking to me, and his eyes twinkle. 

I love Uncle Leo.  Lenny’s okay too.  Man, the deli looks like a carnival with dance space and a big whirling lit up ball on the ceiling with streamers, where the tables used to be.  The booths have checkered red and white cloth on them, with candles.  I smell barbeque and corned beef.

“Jerry’s sorry he couldn’t make it tonight, boys, but he’s under the weather,” mom said.  Leo and Lenny give her another, longer hug, and walk us into the deli.  I hate dad.  Mom looks so sad behind her pretend smile. She keeps her chin up high. She’s beautiful.

The counter has a bunch of food piled up high.  Man it looks good.  (We don’t have too much food, but mom says its our secret.  We have peanut butter – and I love peanut butter.)  Kathy’s friends are dancing to loud music.

           “Tonight, you guys can fill up your own glasses at the fountain, as much as you want,” Lenny told us.  (I’m in heaven, baaaaby! )

Leo, Jr. comes over and whaps me on the back. “How ya’ doin’ in my suit – man, it looks sharp, if I don’t say so myself!  Let’s play foosball in the break room.”  He doesn’t have to ask me twice.  We grab two drinks each, and take off. We put the drinks into the break room and go back for wings and ribs.  Life is GREAT!

The back door opens into the break room. Dad’s hanging on so he won’t fall.  “Hey, where’s my little Kathy and her intended idiot? I think I should have a little talk with them before they make the big mistake.”

Leo, Jr., who keeps away from dad, takes off.

Here’s me and dad.  I suppose I should help him get to a booth, but I don’t.  I just keep staring at him.  He has to climb down two stairs. I’m still frozen in my new shoes.  They’re really too big. I can wiggle my toes in them, and that’s what I keep doing, watching dad.  He takes two steps forward and half falls and half slides, landing on the floor.

           “Davey, my boy, go get me my bottle of whisky.  It’s hiding in my golf bag over there in the closet.  Be a good boy and get it.”  This he says while lying there.  I weigh a ton.  My chest is pounding. His breath stinks way over here.  I hate dad, but I love him too.  He can’t quit. But, he’s not always like this.   I sit down and notice butcher knives in a box on the wall. 

           How this is ever going to stop?  I realize I can stop it.  Right here.  I take the biggest knife out and check it out.  Hey, what can they do to an eight year old who kills his dad?  Especially if it might be self defense.  He is way drunk.  They’d probably let me go to some school for delinquents.  So that’d be a lot better than this stupid life. I bet they don’t eat peanut butter there. Everyone would be okay at home. I think God will understand.  I try the handle.  I  get a good grip on it.

           “Now Davey.  You have to obey me.  Be a good boy and please get me that bottle!”. He’s begging.  I feel like vomiting. 

           I can see the golf bag leaning up against the wall in the closet.  I think maybe he’ll pass out. Happy sounds from the party make me want to cry.

           “David, right this minute!” Dad’s mad. He might get the strength to get up. 

           “God, help me here.  What’s best?  We can’t keep on going like this.  My poor Dad can’t either.  Why don’t I smack this into his ribs, and you take him?”  Silence.  That’s the answer.  Yeah!  I jump out of my chair. I carefully put the knife back in the case and get the booze.  It’s a full bottle of Jim Beam.  He’s turning it up like a baby bottle, lying there on the deli floor, drinking the whole thing down.  It’s running down his chin and cheek. 

           “Okay, it’s your job, not mine.”

           I walk into the party as Uncle Leo, Lenny and Bill are racing to see who can pop the cork first.  This is an old tradition in our family. “Thwap, Pop, Pop!  And the winner is . . . Leo!” (also a tradition, since he’s the oldest. I figure they must cheat to let him win, but I’m not sure.)  I see mom and Kathy hugging, and decide to let God do his thing and let mom enjoy the party.