Imbecile Relocation Program: Part One

Dad sold his place. He took the first and only bid offered on the house which was very low. Dad did this against his real estate agent’s advice and knowing full well that his new home in Idaho won’t be finished for another six months. Now he has a deadline to meet for moving out. His kooky plan will require me to move some of his stuff to an apartment across town, most of my parents personal belongings in and out of storage facilities, and then finally move him to Idaho. What fun.

Unaware that Dad had already taken some items into storage he called me up the other day to help him start the move. I met him along with one of his close friends from the firehouse, a really nice guy named George. George is such a good guy I’ve never really understood why he’s been hanging around with Dad. Also, another of Dad’s friends showed up with his grandson to help out. Very nice of them. That’s Ron and Raygun. Raygun coincidentally works on my old instrument line as a technician at Bill and Dave’s. Small world, huh?

We took separate vehicles to a storage company downtown and met up in front of what turned out to be one of three storage units Dad had rented. None of them were located next to each other, they were scattered across the storage yard. Dumb. What we were supposed to do was clear out his storage units so he can drive one way to Boise in a big ass truck and then put all this crap into storage there. Does that make any fucking sense? I don’t think so.

Everything went okay for a little while. George, Ron, Raygun, and myself stayed busy loading Dad’s rental truck. I was confident all of us were doing a good job packing everything in tight so furniture wouldn’t break loose during the trip. Dad was pretty much useless and kept getting in our way. Then he decided it was time to flip his “fuck with people who are helping me” switch to the ON position.

As I was carrying boxes up the ramp into that truck I happened to look over my shoulder at just the right moment. Dad grabbed items I had just packed on board and he brought them back off the truck. I was like, WTF? He didn’t say anything to me about it so I went over to the box he snagged, picked it up, and put it exactly where I wanted it in his giant moving truck. He was watching me. When I stepped off the loading ramp Dad hooked me by my right arm and dragged me off to the side where none of the guys could see what was happening.

Grinding his teeth with anger he said, “That isn’t a priority. It stays here.”
“Dad, you don’t seem to get it. You’re moving. That means if there is room on the truck it goes.”

He let go of my arm and stormed away.

I walked into his nearby storage unit, picked up another box and placed it on the truck. Dad quickly stomped up the loading ramp and hauled that box out. I lifted a spare wheel for his trailer up and pushed that into the truck. Dad immediately threw it back into the storage unit. Again he grabbed me by the arm and this time he yelled at me in front of the guys. “You did that just to fuck with me!” He was on the verge of a total rage. Ron, George, and Raygun all stopped what they were doing to stare at us standing eyeball to eyeball next to the loading ramp. I told Dad the same thing like a broken record. “You’re moving. If there’s room it goes on the truck. Simple, isn’t it?” George and Ron were inside near the cab securing some large items with heavy canvas straps. I heard some snickering. Dad became even more mad.

Hour after miserable hour passed slowly. Dad expanded his retarded antics to the point that Ron and George were making fun of him. He was removing stuff they were loading onto the truck, too. That was pissing them off. I was glad for once that people outside of my immediate family were seeing for the first time what a total moron Dad really is. Nobody ever believed me in the past when I told them stories about how my father treats people. They always think I’m making shit up. Dad truly is a nutjob. No thanks to him we eventually finished loading that monster of a truck and called it a day.

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~ by factorypeasant on August 10, 2006.

One Response to “Imbecile Relocation Program: Part One”

  1. geez total cack.
    my input is i think he had too
    large a dose of agent orange…
    but i could be wrong

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