I’ve been in trouble since day one of my life.
One hour after being born. I decided that I didn’t want to breathe anymore. Against my mother’s better judgment she let the nurses revive me.
Three months later. Mom thought better of this whole mother thing, decided that I was more trouble than I was worth. She packed me in a duffel bag and left me in a convenience store.
This period of my life, a remarkable thirteen years, was the longest stretch of time that I managed to stay out of trouble. That is until I discovered, something called fire and on my thirteenth birthday I burnt down my foster home.
Over the next six years, I continued to do what I was brought into this world to do – make trouble for others. In no particular order, shoplifting, arson, assault, armed robbery, and my personal favorite expelled for blackmailing my school principal. I could make any number of excuses for each one of these (and will), who doesn’t shoplift when you’re a kid, umm, hello fire, the kid had it coming and was never proven. Finally, there was Mr. Barns, my senior school principal, was a male prostitute. I was just trying to make a buck. When he refused to pay. I went public. A few days later the guy blows his brains out. I was expelled.
As you can see, I’ve been nothing but trouble. After that, it was obvious I had a gift for trouble. Like any smart kid, I put my unique gift to work for me and went into business making trouble for others.
At first, it was a tough sell, not many folks are interested in “buying” trouble, so I had to continue to build up the resume, prove over and over that you needed trouble in your life to be a better person.
After 60 plus years of being in the field of making trouble. It’s finally time to retire. I am happy to say that my troublemaking days are nearly over.
I guess, I only have one regret Padre.
“What is that, son.” The elderly priest asked placing a loving hand on the condemned man’s shoulder.
I wish I had used the head before sitting down. I have to piss real bad.