I Tried to Give My Dad Away A Wal-Mart But they Didn't Want Him

I Tried to Give my Dad Away at Wal-Mart

But They Wouldn’t Take Him.



Last week I had the great pleasure of my dad and his better half’s (his girlfriend) company. Faye is a sweet, spunky individual. Not that her being spunky is surprising. You see, it takes a spunky individual to put up with my old man. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying anything about him that he hasn’t said about himself.

You see, my dad is a smartass. He admitted it while he was here, too. The conversation came about when we were talking about my book reviews and I told him that several people had referred to my writing style as “smartass.”

His retort was, “See, that’s why I should be getting a cut of your royalties. You inherited all your smartass abilities from me.”

My reply to that was, “Yeah, that what’s my mama always said, too, only she didn’t seem to mean it as a good thing.”

His reply was, “Don’t be a smartass!”

That’s when I reminded him of the years he told me that being a smartass wasn’t going to get me anywhere. Obviously, he didn’t deserve a cut of my profits because he tried to change me.

His reply was, “I just told you that to make you mad so you’d work harder at being a smartass. And it worked, didn’t it?”

Hubby passes by and says, “Yup, it did!”

“Watch it,” daddy says to him.

You see, I can say anything about my dad. My dad can say anything about me, but no one better say anything bad about us to each other. It’s a father-daughter thing.

Hubby replies, “I’m talking about her writing. She put a dead guy in a Porta Potty in the book.”

My dad’s reply came quick. “Well, if she put him there, I’m certain he deserved to be there!”

Then Faye, who reads all my books, looks at me and says, “You know, you do get your smart mouth from your dad.”

Fine, I’ll admit it, I might, just might be a chip off the old block. Not that he’s that tough of a block. Oh, he tries to act tough. He claims he hates cats, but three of my four cats decided his lap was a good place to sleep. He claims he hates dogs that slobber and can’t keep their tongues in their mouths, and my daughter’s English Mastiff just couldn’t buy that he didn’t love her. And you know what they say about animals knowing what a person is really made of.

Ahh, but there’s never a dull moment when my dad and I are together. When a waitress asked how he wanted his burger cooked, my dad’s reply was, “On the grill.”

Once at a restaurant when his pork chop was tough, he called the waitress over and with a straight face asked her if they had a hacksaw in the house because nothing less would do to cut the piece of leather she’d just served him.

He loves to pull the wool over your eyes or to just downright embarrass you. And he tried to do that to me on this visit. We were at Wal-Mart and I’m paying for my purchases. He comes up and tells the cashier, “She’s my daughter and she mistreats me. Can you call someone to do something about that?”


Now, this woman doesn’t know my dad and I could see in her expression that she was concerned. I look back at my dad and say, “Shut up, ol’ man!”

Yeah, maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say, but I knew if I went right into trying to convince her that I wasn’t abusive, Dad would have too much fun. And hey, we all know a hit dog hollers the loudest.

Dad looks back at the cashier, picks up his cane and says, “She beats me with my own cane.”

Faye, my dad’s girlfriend says, “She does not.”

I swear that cashier’s eyes got round as quarters and she looks at me and tries to sum me up. Was I the type to beat my dad with his own cane?

I shake my head and look back at the woman. “He deserves a good beating. But if you think you can put up with him, I’ll let you take him home with you.”

Faye looks at me, and I’m not sure she appreciates me trying to give her boyfriend away, but hey, she’s not the one he’s trying to get arrested right now.

The cashier looks back at my dad and she sees it, that devilish sparkle in his blue eyes. She shakes her head. “Nope, I don’t want him.”

I laugh and feel victorious. But as I walk away, she says, “But you know, he doesn’t seem all that bad, maybe you should try to be a little nicer to him.”

Dad snickers. I look back at the woman and say, “That’s only going to encourage him. And now if he starts acting up, I’m bringing him back to you.”

She looks at my dad and says, “I’m locking the doors when you leave.”

And I think she meant it, too.

Anyway, we had a great visit. We did a lot of laughing.

Yup, dad is full of piss and vinegar as we used to say back in Alabama, and I’ll admit that perhaps, I inherited a bit of his attitude. Oh, and dad’s right. The guy in the Porta-Potty in Divorced, Desperate and Deceived deserved what he got.

So, what about you guys? Any smartass stories to share? Any father-daughter stories to share? Come on, don’t be shy.