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Monday, September 12, 2011

Word Twisting

Okay, so I haven’t been writing Cassi as diligently as I should. I don’t know if her boyfriend would be to keen on a man writing her letters three times a week.

This letter details a situation from my perspective. Tell me what you think.

1st September 2011
Dear Cassi,

Something happened two weeks ago that left a bad taste in my mouth. I was over at (a Family’s) House for their two week family dinner, and I had been told by the patriarch of the (Families) that his youngest son would be making hamburgers that night. Finding that as good food is best accompanied by good drink, and bad food to be inedible without it, I took it on myself to provide some beer.

The old man of (this family) calls himself most happy when he has a dark brew in his hand so I made this to be the day we would learn if he more fancied Black Heart or Black Toad. I arrived at this event with all twelve bottles in hand two hours early to make sure the beer was cold, and I learned then that this was a birthday party for the old man.
His youngest son was to “make” hamburgers as a gift to his father. The thing that bothered me so much about this event was that a distinction was made between make and cook. It came that the job of cooking had been moved from (the son) to his sister, and then his sister had refused. It came to his sister’s best friend who was made to flip ground meat on a grill for our dinner.
To add a few more notes of broken music to this whole thing (the son) had a young lady with him who I took to be his girl. I imagine she had a dim view of a man who wouldn’t flip a few patties for his old man. When he said “I said I would make you burgers not cook you burgers” I can imagine opinions of the man went anywhere but up.
This business of word twisting may appear humorous to (the son), but I feel sickened by it, his hamburgers didn’t help with that, and I lost what little respect I had for the man.
Here is a man who had all the advantages one could have in life and still repays those advantages with insolence. He turned his back on his father and looked to lesser folks like his idiot friends for guidance. If I called (the son) a friend I would have to say something. If he was worthy of such a condition he would listen.

Stay safe, Cassi,

Richard Leland Neal