Why is Lou so messed up?

[LouSiffer]

Chapter 1: Twisted Beginnings:


Sitting here in the hotel room......bored out of my skull.....and drunk, too!! I was thinking I have made some crazy posts on here and I said to myself, " Self, if you read this from someone else......what would you think?". And my reply was " How the fuck did they get this way?! ".

So I know that there is probably a few of you that were thinking the same way....if not, just indulge me. I know there are others that have/had it worse, but, this is not about them.....this is about your beloved....yours truly.

To start off with, this may not be as long as my other thread........but, as before, it is all the truth....as much as I remember it. There are some details that I do not remember fully or are fuzzy at best. This can also be used as a guideline as to " How Not to Raise your Kids ". As always, thanks for letting me vent and sharing my life, which in reality is nothing more than a grain of sand on an infinite beach. Also, if I say " Father, Dad, etc "...those are terms used VERY loosely.

April 10th , 1973..... the 8th wonder of the world was born in Chillicothe, OH........there was 4-6 inches of snow on the ground. No, I don't remember coming out of the vagina......I don't remember the slap on the ass.....I don't remember having my umbilicle cut.....but, I am reminded everyday of my castration....errr.....I mean circumcision. ( Forgive my spelling, Ron.......I am tweaked right now ). I have traced my family tree back as far as its origins in Scotland..... beyond that....there is nothing to trace it to. There are some details that I am still trying to piece together in my life......and some I have pieced together I wish I wouldn't have.

My memory is Swiss-Cheesed at best through these early years, but, there are some moments of extreme clarity. I do remember living in this 3 story building my grandfather owned. My mother and I lived on the 3rd floor....right above the bowling alley. It was called 20th Century Lanes....and it had a whopping 10 lanes in it. It was an old style bowling alley that had teenage boys setting the pins with a hand rack versus the automated racks we are familiar with today. This is probably the start of my love for bowling. Damn good at it, too. I haven't bowled for 8 years.....went out last week and rolled a 227, 243 and a 262 right out of the gate. It comes natural to me, but, more on that later.

I also remember living on Winona Blvd next to this city PD detective named Herman Smith. It was a small manor that all of my mother's family lived in during that time. All the houses in this are were built exactly the same on a concrete slab. If you see a house that looks different, it was built years later than the rest or it was heavily remodeled. I remember Herman cuz he was always talking to my father. He had arrested my father on many occasions. My father, had dreams of being Scarface long before that movie came out. My father had ambitions of being the Coke Kingpen/counterfeiter of southern Ohio and the surrounding area.......so did a man named Luther " Luke " Sommers.

My father threw my mother beatings on a regular basis. I remember night after night of him coming home and dragging her out of bed to wail on her. I also had this dog....it was a Siberian Husky.....that I loved dearly. I remember trying to leave the yard by opening the gate......and he grabbed a hold of my diaper with his teeth and somehow barked to alert my mother at the same time. I do not remember his name, however, but, he was my protector. One night, I am guessing I was around 3 or 4 , dad came home and pulled my mother out of bed to flog on her a bit. This was a night that she actually had me in bed with her instead of my crib. I was sleeping with her, the dog at my feet. When my father drug her out of bed, the dog thought he was hurting me. The dog attacked him very ferociously. He kicked at the dog , but, it was too quick for him. My father was coked out and who knows what else, left and did not come back for a couple days. Mom went to work one day and left me there with my father.

I had this plastic bowling pin set that had held 5 pins on each side of the carrier and 2 plastic bowling balls as well. My dad told me to pick them up. I did not do as he wanted......soooooo, he reached down and grabbed the dog....and snapped his neck in front of me. I remember holding the dog on my lap for several hours until mom came home. I remember thinking and hoping the dog would be okay. I was in total denial.....how could the person I admired the most hurt the thing I loved the most? It wasn't until my mother came home I realized that my father wasn't there. I don't know how long I was alone......and I do not know how long my baby sister had been crying.....that fucking POS left us both alone....I am guessing for at least a few hours. She may have been crying... to this day I do not honestly know. She could have been hungry, needed fed or changed........I will never know.

Over the course of time, it never changed. I remember my mother bought me another dog. It was a Sheep Dog.......well...a pup. I remember My dad getting mad at it because it peed on the carpet. I also remember my dad stomping on its head until it quit moving because of it. I loved my dad..........I looked up to him like there was no one greater than him. If the world was 1/1000th as innocent as it is through the eyes of a child.....

My father was a Vietnam Vet. He was in some heavy shit from what I understand. He had gone through 4 tours of duty before he met my mother. He was in from 67-71. He survived Khe-San Valley and the Tet-Offensive. Why did he go for 3 more tours? I am guessing he was hoping he would get killed in action. He was 1 of 7 children. His parents were heavy boozers. His father, Harry Parker, was a WWII vet. He made okay money at the local paper mill, but, his parents spent it all on booze. On Christmas Eve, around 1954-ish, his parents gave him and all his siblings candy bars for Christmas. My father was 5 at the time. He demanded that his sister, who was 3 at the time, give him her candybar. She refused. My father grabbed the .38 out of the coffe table and said " Give it to me or I will shoot you ". She refused as a 3 year old would. My father put a round right into her head. I remember his parents had black and white pictures of her closed casket on their walls for all to see. It took me many years and a bunch of prying to figure out why Christmas was his least favorite time of the year.

The local newspaper had it written up that his parents were doing last minute holiday shopping. A small town on Christmas Eve has nothing open other than bars. After this event, his parents did not leave the kids home alone....... they made them sit outside in the car while they were inside the bar boozing it up. They cut a hole in the floorboard of the car in case the kids had to use the restroom and......of course they were kind enough to leave them a roll of toilet paper. -Lou

[xenophobe]

Wow, that's some heavy shit man. If you weren't on the other coast, I'd stop by and burn one with ya.

[vampire dark]

what the fuck? thats a sad story man

[LouSiffer]

Chapter 2: Molding of a Mad Man



One sunny afternoon, I am guessing I was around 4, I was playing near the front door when my father kicked it open and knocked me across the floor. From what I was told, I was literally knocked unconscious. I was told, while I was knocked the fuck out, my father ran into the bathroom and dumped his stash into the toilet. Then he ran into the bedroom and hid under the bed. The cops came knocking.....my mother was in hysterics as she thought I was dead....then they just came into the house and looked at my mother and said " Where is he? " Mom told them he was hiding under the bed while she was trying to call the emergency squad holding me in her arms. I came to nad was looking around at these 4 cops wrestled my father out of the house. He put up a good fight..... I am sure some good drugs helped. I remember wrapping myself around one of the cops legs begging them not to take my daddy. Mom is trying to peal me off him......they are trying to cuff and stuff my father. They finally get him in the back seat, and I can honestly say, these four cops had every reason to toss him a full on Rodney King beating, but, they never did......they were complete professionals.

Dad was in the back of this cruiser, hands cuffed behind his back.....going balls out apeshit. He kicked out every window in the back of that car......and my mother said later on he also kicked the roof so much that the car was destroyed and decommissioned. He was yelling out of the cruiser he was going to to kill my mom......and then me, too, once he got out. I don't know about you, but, I am thinking some LSD with a nice cocktail of coke and assorted amphetimenes at this point. Oh, and I was bleeding from a cut/gash I got on my head from the door incident....... after some stitches and a diagnosed case of concussion....I was back home.

I remember not seeing my dad for a week or so....... I remember waking up every morning wanting him to be there, but, scared, that he might be there. I woke up on my 5th birthday with mom getting my then infant sister bathed and dressed. She had my clothes laid out and started running the shower for me to get in. I do the shower thing and we head out down to the local police station/jail. The department allowed my dad to go out and sit on the lawn with us to have a picnic and celebrate my birthday. Over the course of the week or so he was in there, the drugs were out of his system and he was normal again. I just remember being so happy I got to spend my birthday with my dad. In retrospect, celebrating your birthday on the jailhouse lawn with your incarcerated father is not recommended.

They released my dad from jail........he called us and told us he was out. Said he was coming right over. Evidently, his " coming right over " was different than ours as he went AWOL for a few days. He eventually showed up........I am guessing all fucked up on the same chemical cocktail as previous due to his actions. My grandfather on my mother's side decided to have a family cookout due to the unusually nice mid-April weather. My grandparents, 3 uncles, 5 aunts and approximately 8 grandchildren incluing me were there. My father shows up and starts a fight with everyone....literally. Started with my mother first, but, he got to everyone. I remember all 3 of my uncles tackled him.....which only pissed him off more. 2 of them ended up in the swimming pool, the other through a sliding glass door. One of the women went in and called the police.

Round 2 with the local PD did not fair so well for my dad....or the PD. I do not know if it was the same 4 cops as before or a mix of some new ones in there, but, they did not take him to jail.......they took him to the hospital. From what I was told, they throttled him to the point to where he had some missing teeth, a dislocated shoulder, a few stitches and a few broken/cracked ribs. One cop did end up with a broken nose and another with his finger almost bit off. I remember watching this fight as it happened, but, the movie just isn't super clear. I also remember crying and hating the cops because they took my dad away. The misunderstandings of a child are amazing, aren't they?

My mother, in her infinite wisdom, took me to the hospital to see my dad. Yeah, I also forgot to mention that the hospital had admitted him into the psychiatric ward. We walk in and there he is, strapped to his bed. He goes apeshit when he sees us.......the crazy fucker actually got an arm free or broke a strap...I dunno......nurses came in and did there thing. Mom told me later they tried to sedate him with a shot of whatever and it did not have any affect on him. She mentioned something about a lot of Thorazine at 1 time. This too, is not an ideal situation to put a 5 year old in......just in case you haven't figured that out yet.

As I was told later in life, good ole dad was looking at serious prison time. Due to the run ins with the cops, but, also because they busted him selling coke, weed and making counterfeit money. This gets a little sketchy here as I have been told various stories by different family members, but, what I pieced together from it all was the dad decided to rat out his competitor be telling the local agents he was working for the guy in exchange for the charges being dropped of course.

So dad gives the cops all the details about where and who this guy deals with. In short, it all pans out and the dude goes to prison for a while. Dad got released and we did not see him for some time. He moved to Michigan. He would call occasionally and talk for a minute.........he promised to send us Birthday presents and Christmas presents. He would call and ask us what we wanted.......we told him.....he would call again and say he mailed them, but, damn......USPS is slow as shit because I am still waiting.

[LouSiffer]

As an addendum, I will have to pop in and out of timelines along the story. This is because it actually flows better and may help you see things through my eyes as I seen them at that point and time. If I go chronologically, you will say " I seen that coming.... why didn't he?". I want you to see them with my mindset: All things were equal, fair is fair, your parents have your best interest at heart and never lie to you, and there is no way people are as dishonest as they truly are....... I know, a fairytale.-Lou

[Trem]

If it makes you feel better to get it out, cool. Once that's done, I personally try to forget that shit. I care not to relive or think about it ever, anyway that's how i've dealt with it. Carry on...

[LouSiffer]

Chapter 3: House of Pain

Yes, I stole the title from Faster Pussycat, but, it hits home for me.....word for word.......and, unfortunately so many others that had a pile of shit for a father.

I think I was around 6 or 7 when my mother met my step-father. He was fresh out of the Marine Corps. It wasn't long before they got married and my little brother was born. This man, as far as I was concerned through the remainder of my life was my "Dad". I was desperate and in need of a man that I could call " Dad ". Dad being fresh out of the Marines and young, was a little feisty......and not quite a man yet. I have respect for all my armed service men and women, but, the Marines do something to a person that just changes their being. Dad drank alot, smoked weed and popped the occasional pill. He was about 5 foot 4 inches and had the typical small man syndrom and a big jealous streak. He would get drunk and come home and pick a fight with my mother thinking she was cheating on him. She was home with us all night and I can assure you there was never another man in our house. I call it a house, because it was not a home for a long time. Every Friday and Saturday night, dad would go out, get trashed, come home in the middle of the night and wake me and my sister up to a scene of him throttling my mother. My brother, being an infant, slept right through it.

My bed was nothing more than a matress on the floor that we would throw down in the middle of the living room when it was time to go to sleep. My sister had her own room and my brother was in his crib near my mother. Dad came home and was feeling like Muhamad Ali and decided to spar with my mother. I was about 7-ish....and he just laid a good jab to her nose and I seen blood flowing from her face. I decided to step in to protect my mother....... he grabbed me by the throat and tossed me across the room. I had no control of my flight. I just remember tripping over my matress and hitting my head on a banister then landing on the floor beside my bed......unable to move, looking at the design that was on the matress and things going black. I was knocked unconcious for the second time of my life before I was 8 years old by the actions of a lunatic. I woke up in the hospital with my grandparents beside me..... to this day, I do not know why my mother and father were not there. I am assuming they were both too ashamed to show their faces.

I spent the next week with my grandparents....them shuffling me back and forth from school. They were the only beacon of normalcy in my life at that time. It would be a few years later I found out nothing was constant. My mother would call to speak with me. I refused to talk to her since she wasn't there for me at the hospital. One day as school was about to let out, a note was sent to my teacher that said I was to take the bus home. I get off the bus and walked up that long gravel driveway. Every step getting heavier and my heart racing. I walk in the door and there is Mom cooking dinner and Dad laying on the floor playing with my brother and sister. No one said anything. It was like the last week never happened. However, mom decided it was in her best interest to go out to the bars with dad so he couldn't accuse her of being with someone else. I was told this helped a little, but, it did not end the problem as Dad would still find a way to accuse her of stuff when he got drunk. His drinks of choice was Stroh's beer that he would dump a touch of salt in and shots of Jack Daniels.

One night, the parents came home and were acting weird. My aunt was watching us. At 8 years old or so, even I noticed something was not right....I think the tip off was when they both stepped on me as they were walking through the house. I remember they were both sitting on the couch laughing, then silence and some moans ....then more laughing.....more silence and moans. In hindsight, I am guessing acid. I just remember I woke up to my sister saying she was hungry and noticed my aunt was gone. My little brother was crying in his crib. He needed changed and I was guessing he was hungry. I tried to wake my parents up, but, to no success. I did what any self respecting 8 year old big brother would do.....I changed his diaper and then I boiled two pots of water. One was for some Cocoa Wheats for me and my sister and the other was to warm my brother's bottle up....Simolac as he was allergic to milk......we didn't have a microwave. I knew enough to not get his bottle too warm due to me asking my mother mounds of questions about everything she did. So I fixed my sister's bowl of Cocoa Wheats and check the bottle to make sure it was just right and fed my brother.....he was a little guy, but, I was still not able to just man handle him.....so I had to sit him up in his crib and patted his back to burp him....while supporting his head and neck. My hot breakfast cereal was cold by the time I got to eat it. I didn' care. I did something great for my brother and sister and I was extremely proud of myself. When I was done, I had the TV on for my sister to watch some Saturday morning cartoons ( Remember those ? ). Somehow, I got my brother out of his crib and put him in his playpen.

While my siblings were occupied, I did what I saw my mother do with dishes......I rinsed them out thoroughly and left them in the sink. A little later on, my sister and brother was hungry again. I warmed him up another bottle and made her a PB&J sandwhich. Again, I washed the butterknife off thoroughly. Eventually, my parents woke up. Dad went to bed and Mom took a shower. When she was done, she went into the kitchen and seen the dishes. She asked what happened. I proudly told her how I took care of everything since she was too tired. She reached into the sink and grabbed the wooden spoon I used to stir the Cocoa Wheats......and started beating me on the head with it. She was pissed because we had a gas stove and I could have caught the house on fire. She was also pissed because I could have really hurt my brother if the bottle was too hot. I assured her I tested the bottle just like she did....the only thing that got me was a couple more whacks with the wooden spoon. Fuck me for being the responsible one in the house. When she went back to bed, I called my grandmother and told her that i really needed to see her. She asked why.....but, I never told her......how could I rat out my own mother for beating me in the head with a wooden spoon.....she loved me, right? I ended up spending a few days with my grandparents. They were both curious as to why there were bruises on my head. I couldn't bring myself to tell them. This also would not be the last of the throttlings my noggin would take from my mother.

I could not convince my grandparents to let me stay with them " forever ". It wasn't that I was bad kid.....I was a great kid......just with bad surroundings. I was just blind from looking through the eyes of a child that expected everyone to be honest and kind. I also felt that I had deserved all the throttlings I recieved due to the fact my parents always had an excuse for their actions.....and there was no way my parents could be wrong, right?-Lou

[LouSiffer]

If it makes you feel better to get it out, cool. Once that's done, I personally try to forget that shit. I care not to relive or think about it ever, anyway that's how i've dealt with it. Carry on...

I put this up for those who have experienced something similar in hopes they realize it's not them.....others have dealt with it, too. Also, if someone is putting a child through this, they may wake up and stop it.

I wish I could forget.....I thought I did forget. However, these memories are re-surfacing with extreme clarity. The only thing I know to do with these memories is to learn from them and to make sure my kids do not have to deal with this.-Lou

[emperor_black]

I truly feel sorry for you Bro.

[Scooter]

Oh man. I feel your pain. Truly, I know where you're coming from.

[LouSiffer]

Chapter 4: Bitches are Crazy

At one point, my aunt quit babysitting us when I was in the 8-9 year old range....this put my sister around 5 and my brother around 2 or so. My mother talked to my aunt's friend and she said her older sister, Renee, would watch us while her and dad went out and partied. This bitch was full on crazy. She had me on the phone asking people if they wanted to buy rubber dicks and shit. We would go to sleep at night and she would shut off the lights and hide in the room. She was a patient psychotic bitch. She would wait for a half hour at a time..... once we were asleep, then would scare the fuck out of us to wake us up.....then she would laugh that sadistical laugh, turn out the lights and do it again. We kept telling my mother, but, either my mother didn't believe us or did not want to believe us so she wouldn't have to find another sitter. There was several occasions when she would actually leave the room and come in during our sleep and throw firecrackers into the room. One time she did this and didn't clean up the firecracker mess. We told my mother and and she seen the evidence and then actually got rid of her. To this day, I am scared of loud noises I do not control. I am cool with guns and such as long as I have ear plugs, but, I am still nervous if I am not the one on the trigger. My sister, at 36 years old still has a nightlight.

My biological father showed up a week before my birthday. He would call me on my birthday and Christmas, promise he was sending me something, but, as stated before it never showed up. He actually took me out birthday shopping and told me I had up to $100 to spend. Finally, I was getting something from this prick......or so I thought. We went into the local K-Mart and I picked out a bicycle and some other toys. He takes me to my grandparents house to open them. We get the bike unpacked and my grandfather went and got the tools to put it together. I was about to open the packages on the other things and my father told me to stop until the bike was together. My grandfather brought in the tools and left ........to where I have no clue. Once he was gone, my father threw all the bike parts back into the box, tossed everything into his car and we took it all back and he got a refund. He then pulled up to my house, told me to go inside and he would be in after he did something. I was still in shock and trying to figure out why he took all that stuff back. I was thinking it was some funny joke and that it did not happen. As soon as I walked into the house, I heard him take off like a bat out of hell. I ran out to the street yelling for him. I knew he must have just forgotten about me. I ran through my yard, through the neighbor's yard and out the other side of the block and seen him coming down the street. I stepped out into the street waiving him down. I just knew he had forgotten and this would remind him....no big deal. He stops and looks at me......I did not realize how far out into the street I was. He backs up, drives up onto the sidewalk to go around me. I just stood there staring at the back of his car in the middle of the street. Some lady comes out of her yard yellling something along the lines of " Hey kid.....you almost got hit by that car! ". I was polite in my reply, which was something like " He wouldn't have hurt me....he is my dad. ".

He lived in Michigan at the time. I called his house for a couple days because I wanted to know what I did wrong to make him do that. This was before there was Caller ID. One day I called and I heard him answer. I was soooo excited!! I said " Hey Dad! I am sorry if I did anything wrong. I promise I won't do it again ." He made some grunting noises on the other end and then I just heard the phone click. Wow, I must have really messed up. I called back.....and all I got was a busy signal. I gave up that evening. I went to school the next day and did nothing but think about what I could say to make him understand how sorry I was. I ran home from school and about killed myself trying to get to the phone. I dial his number and heard something odd. It was a recorded message saying the number had been changed. I realized I must have mis-dialed it....so I called again.....same message. I was devastated. I layed awake for many night playing that day over and over in my head trying to pin down what it was I did that was so wrong to make him change his phone number......but, maybe it wasn't me......maybe it was something else. I was a good kid.......I thought anyway.

I didn't hear from him for almost 2 years after that. I tried stopping by his parents house hoping it would allow me to feel some closeness to him. They were not a friendly sort. I stopped in a few more times, but, I just never felt welcomed there. I would call his brothers....just hoping someone in his family could fill that void I was missing on his side of my bloodline. They all pretty much had no interest. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. The people I wanted to be with , would have nothing to do with me......and the people that would have anything to do with me, were fucking nuts in one way or another........except my mother's parents.....and 2 or my 3 uncles on my mother's side felt so bad about the Birthday incident, they chipped in and bought me the exact bike I picked out originally. They went so far as to tell me my Father bought it for me. That was cool of them, really it was, but, as I would later learn.....that would be the last interaction I would have with my uncles. I just wanted so bad, for a male with my blood to interact with me. Someone to be my surrogate father. My mother's dad tried, but, he was running multiple businesses he owned and time was limited. My step father had me so scared and intimidated that I suffered from constant heartburn. You ever know a kid that couldn't wait to get to school and hated when it was time to go home? -Lou

[guitarguy2237]

Chapter 4: Bitches are Crazy

At one point, my aunt quit babysitting us when I was in the 8-9 year old range....this put my sister around 5 and my brother around 2 or so. My mother talked to my aunt's friend and she said her older sister, Renee, would watch us while her and dad went out and partied. This bitch was full on crazy. She had me on the phone asking people if they wanted to buy rubber dicks and shit. We would go to sleep at night and she would shut off the lights and hide in the room. She was a patient psychotic bitch. She would wait for a half hour at a time..... once we were asleep, then would scare the fuck out of us to wake us up.....then she would laugh that sadistical laugh, turn out the lights and do it again. We kept telling my mother, but, either my mother didn't believe us or did not want to believe us so she wouldn't have to find another sitter. There was several occasions when she would actually leave the room and come in during our sleep and throw firecrackers into the room. One time she did this and didn't clean up the firecracker mess. We told my mother and and she seen the evidence and then actually got rid of her. To this day, I am scared of loud noises I do not control. I am cool with guns and such as long as I have ear plugs, but, I am still nervous if I am not the one on the trigger. My sister, at 36 years old still has a nightlight.

My biological father showed up a week before my birthday. He would call me on my birthday and Christmas, promise he was sending me something, but, as stated before it never showed up. He actually took me out birthday shopping and told me I had up to $100 to spend. Finally, I was getting something from this prick......or so I thought. We went into the local K-Mart and I picked out a bicycle and some other toys. He takes me to my grandparents house to open them. We get the bike unpacked and my grandfather went and got the tools to put it together. I was about to open the packages on the other things and my father told me to stop until the bike was together. My grandfather brought in the tools and left ........to where I have no clue. Once he was gone, my father threw all the bike parts back into the box, tossed everything into his car and we took it all back and he got a refund. He then pulled up to my house, told me to go inside and he would be in after he did something. I was still in shock and trying to figure out why he took all that stuff back. I was thinking it was some funny joke and that it did not happen. As soon as I walked into the house, I heard him take off like a bat out of hell. I ran out to the street yelling for him. I knew he must have just forgotten about me. I ran through my yard, through the neighbor's yard and out the other side of the block and seen him coming down the street. I stepped out into the street waiving him down. I just knew he had forgotten and this would remind him....no big deal. He stops and looks at me......I did not realize how far out into the street I was. He backs up, drives up onto the sidewalk to go around me. I just stood there staring at the back of his car in the middle of the street. Some lady comes out of her yard yellling something along the lines of " Hey kid.....you almost got hit by that car! ". I was polite in my reply, which was something like " He wouldn't have hurt me....he is my dad. ".

He lived in Michigan at the time. I called his house for a couple days because I wanted to know what I did wrong to make him do that. This was before there was Caller ID. One day I called and I heard him answer. I was soooo excited!! I said " Hey Dad! I am sorry if I did anything wrong. I promise I won't do it again ." He made some grunting noises on the other end and then I just heard the phone click. Wow, I must have really messed up. I called back.....and all I got was a busy signal. I gave up that evening. I went to school the next day and did nothing but think about what I could say to make him understand how sorry I was. I ran home from school and about killed myself trying to get to the phone. I dial his number and heard something odd. It was a recorded message saying the number had been changed. I realized I must have mis-dialed it....so I called again.....same message. I was devastated. I layed awake for many night playing that day over and over in my head trying to pin down what it was I did that was so wrong to make him change his phone number......but, maybe it wasn't me......maybe it was something else. I was a good kid.......I thought anyway.

I didn't hear from him for almost 2 years after that. I tried stopping by his parents house hoping it would allow me to feel some closeness to him. They were not a friendly sort. I stopped in a few more times, but, I just never felt welcomed there. I would call his brothers....just hoping someone in his family could fill that void I was missing on his side of my bloodline. They all pretty much had no interest. I felt like a stranger in a strange land. The people I wanted to be with , would have nothing to do with me......and the people that would have anything to do with me, were fucking nuts in one way or another........except my mother's parents.....and 2 or my 3 uncles on my mother's side felt so bad about the Birthday incident, they chipped in and bought me the exact bike I picked out originally. They went so far as to tell me my Father bought it for me. That was cool of them, really it was, but, as I would later learn.....that would be the last interaction I would have with my uncles. I just wanted so bad, for a male with my blood to interact with me. Someone to be my surrogate father. My mother's dad tried, but, he was running multiple businesses he owned and time was limited. My step father had me so scared and intimidated that I suffered from constant heartburn. You ever know a kid that couldn't wait to get to school and hated when it was time to go home? -Lou

That kid was me once,not quite to the extent of this, but I was. we may be many years apart in age, but I feel ya man,I really do.

[Whoopu2]

At one point, my aunt quit babysitting us when I was in the 8-9 year old range....this put my sister around 5 and my brother around 2 or so. My mother talked to my aunt's friend and she said her older sister, Renee, would watch us while her and dad went out and partied. This bitch was full on crazy. She had me on the phone asking people if they wanted to buy rubber dicks and shit. We would go to sleep at night and she would shut off the lights and hide in the room. She was a patient psychotic bitch. She would wait for a half hour at a time..... once we were asleep, then would scare the fuck out of us to wake us up.....then she would laugh that sadistical laugh, turn out the lights and do it again. We kept telling my mother, but, either my mother didn't believe us or did not want to believe us so she wouldn't have to find another sitter. There was several occasions when she would actually leave the room and come in during our sleep and throw firecrackers into the room. One time she did this and didn't clean up the firecracker mess. We told my mother and and she seen the evidence and then actually got rid of her. To this day, I am scared of loud noises I do not control. I am cool with guns and such as long as I have ear plugs, but, I am still nervous if I am not the one on the trigger. My sister, at 36 years old still has a nightlight.

That's some insane shit.

[LouSiffer]

Chapter 5: If I could put my current brain into that head.

By now, I was in my pre-teens. I have had a couple calls from my biological father. My parents had quit going out......without us. My Dad's father was a bartender at the local Eagles bar. Mom and Dad would take us into the Eagles with us dressed in PJ's and carrying blankets and pillows.....so we could sleep in the booths whilst they drank and played cards.

My grandfather had been unlocking the pool table for me to play for free in order to keep me busy. His name was Roscoe. While he acted like he couldn't hear well and seemed like a sour old goat, he was probably one of the most caring people on the planet. Keep in mind, pool was only $.10 a game then at this club, but, as a child, that was a lot of money. Roscoe constantly had shrimp baskets sent my way to make sure I was fed.

I looked to my parents one night and said something like " You know, I don't think kids are supposed to be in a bar until 5 AM while their parent played cards on a school night. " Eventually, we got another babysitter named Laurie. Laurie had a boyfriend named Val. He was a big Van Halen fan. He brought his guitar over and I heard him play the intro to " Dance the Night Away ". That was my intro to guitar......since my ideas of drums and piano were shot down early on. That is also the point to where my hormones kicked in and I knew women had something between their legs I wanted. Laurie would go into my parents room and change clothes. I would stare through the keyhole and watch her undress. God, she looked so beautiful!! I would go right down into our basement and start jerking off after watching her. I was jerking at least 5 times a day and wasn't even 12 yet.

I bought a BC Rich Rave II Warlock. This means I bought a plywood guitar and a BC Rich amp.......and a Gorilla amp which was exactly the same thing. They were 1X10's that I used a Arion Distortion pedal in order to make them stereo. Once I found out this was a plywood guitar, I bought a neck-thru Warlock made in the USA. Wish I still had that one!!! I remember the first song Val taught me was " Iron Man ". Then it was " Crazy Train " and then " No One Like You ".

I would sit on the edge of my bed for hours with Guitar for the Practicing Musician trying to play all the songs it had in tabs. I had a subscription.......and sometimes it was a good ediiton.....and sometimes, not so much. One day, I got a call from my father. He wanted me to go up to Michigan and spend some time with him. Back then, I was the eternal pescimist ( sp? ). I thought this would straighten things out with my father and me. It would give me closure and allow me to move on to the early stages of " Man-hood ". I get up to Sterling Heights, MI and meet my father at the airport. He has his girlfriend with him. She is like what Rosanne was before Rosanne was even conceived. Ironically enough, her name was...... " Joanne ". Basically, my father and Joanne managed apartment complexes. Me, I was free fucking labor. Everyday, I was weedwhacking weeds and scrubbing/vacuuming the pool. It was hear, I found out Arabs did not take baths....they just came home from work......jumped into swimming shorts and jumped into the pool.....at least that is the way my racist father put it.

My days started at 6 AM and did not stop until 6PM.....free fucking labor!! The only downside to this mess was that there was this chick that was a .....ummmmm.....she was love for hire! She would let me in her room everyday to get a break from the heat. I do not know nor did I ever know what her name was. She started " Servicing me " early on. She eventually hooked up with a pimp that took a shine to me. I was really a good kid. I was honest, open and naive. He liked that for some reason. My father never grocery shopped.....neither did Joanne. I remember one morning, my breakfast was a slice of chocolate cake....and I had the same for lunch and dinner. Her pimp had pizzas delivered to me. My father never asked where they came from......he just lit up his bong and ate the shit out of them when they showed up.

Joanne walked in on me when I was taking a shower. No....nothing happened between us, but, she did say I must have gotten some genes from someone else than my father. Again, in case you missed another post, I am not hung like a horse......just better than your average Joe......maybe not by much.......but, enough!! The story gets somewhat intesting with the pimp from here, but, I will post that later.