1/22/16

          "Honey we need to take our Christmas photo pictures." She said looking at me from beneath her hatchet man flat bill. She was breastfeeding our youngest child, he hair stuck to her sweat glazed forehead, she looked at me with tired eyes. I raised my eyebrows and rolled my eyes. 

          "When are you making dinner?" I asked staring into the fridge searching for a beer. I see an open can and reach for it as my oldest son runs up behind me and jumps onto my waist just shy of reaching my shoulders with his lanky arms. "And we need more beer, isn't that right Tyler?" I say turning back towards my pale, tired, wife while hoisting my boy up onto my shoulders. 

          "Yeah!" he exclaims in agreement sticking out his tongue while pointing at his mother. 

          "I'm serious." she says detaching our toddler from her breast and pulling up her shirt to cover it. "My motherhasasked me numerous times now, and I'm sick of hearing about it." 

          "She never likes the goddamned pictures anyhow so what's it matter? She don't agree with our lifestyle so why should we conform to hers?" I say shoving past her swiping the hat from her head placing it on my own. I plop down not he couch and kick back my recliner. A puff of dust arises as I do so, dust and the distinct smell of cigarette smoke. 

         "Joseph now you listen to me damn it. I want some memories with these boys before they're grown and gone. I've already set up a shoot tomorrow at four. You're going whether you like it or not." She says while searching the fridge for food. 

          "Damnit Lisa!" I yell as I throw my half empty beer can at her. "The ICP concert is tomorrow at five and I told you we were all going!" I yell as I shoot up from my seat in the living room. With fear in her eyes she stepped back.

          "Okay, look we get ready, go take the pictures and then go straight to the concert?" she whined. 

          "Fine. But don't expect me to sober." I said relaxing slightly. I looked at her for moments after to remind her that I am the man in charge. I turn and walk angrily out of the living area and slam our bedroom door. I get my fix and fall asleep on the bed to the sound of clanking cooking utensils and the blare of ICP from my bedside radio.