An Open Letter of Apology to My Parents

by Crom


I’m sorry. Seriously, i mean it. I’m sorry i threw up on the upstairs carpet. I didn’t intend to puke all over the rug, it just happened, i was 9, cut me some slack, please. I’m sorry I stole all that candy from the 7-11 in Jr. High, forcing the store to close (although, economics may have had a hand). I’m sorry that despite my claims, I did not, in fact, become Batman when i grew up. Not only did i not achieve any superhero status of any kind, but I also didn’t manage the playboy millionaire lifestyle to fund said. I blame the possible lack of your death, as a traumatizing factor that would have set my metamorphosis into the caped crusader in motion.

I’m sorry that in high school, I didn’t pass math 13, in all honesty, i didn’t even try. I just slept during the class, and usually didn’t do the homework. In fact, i think i skipped the final exam in order to purchase a delicious hamburger. I’m sorry that i never became a doctor, despite my adamant claims while in school that I had neither the necessary skills or discipline in order to do the schooling for an MD. In fact i recently advised a close friend to ?Eat as much pie as your face can hold? an obviously dangerous piece of advice, that couldn’t lead to anything but diabetes and heart disease. In spite of the fact that he was 13 years old. I’m sorry about the numerous phone calls you received from my high school informing you of my missing Econ 220, but it was a boring class, and didn’t really impart anything useful in the realm of life altering information. I’m sorry you had to listen to that metallic recording say ?Your Son or Daughter missed one or more classes…?, i know how chilling that voice is, it still haunts me.

I’m sorry that i crashed your car into that light standard. In all fairness, they could have painted it some other color then dark brown, so that when the light went out, i could still see it, this of course doesn’t justify my driving on the sidewalk at all, but I think there’s an argument for either side. I’d also like to apologize for the $450 you had to shell out in order to bail me out of jail, after i crashed your car, I still faithfully maintain that I only had 2 beers, whatever their fancy ?breathalysers? says (although the .24 Blood alcohol rating coupled with my inability to walk, talk or keep waste inside my body long enough to reach a bathroom, will hurt my court case). I swear I’ll get that $450 to you as soon as possible. With interest.

I’m sorry I killed Auntie Jackie, that was not cool. I’m sure Dad is pretty choked that his sister is dead, but in my defense, anybody could have been walking by when I was playing with a plugged in and running circular saw, waving it in the air in jest. It’s unfortunate that it was her, and that i yelled out her name so she turned into me, that wasn’t too smart, but accidents happen. I think that that ?coroner? if he even can be called such, is dead wrong, I DID NOT make multiple strikes to her face and chest with the saw. Those things are like 4 horse power, I had a hard time shutting it off. I don’t think sending me to prison for 25 to life was the best choice you could have taken in this, but i guess i have to respect your decision.

I’m sorry I convinced Beth to bake that cake with a file in it. How was I supposed to know that it never works, everything I know about prison I learned from ?Ernest Goes to Prison?, and I didn’t think she’d be put in jail for it. She’s my sister, but was she adopted or something? Her lack of brainpower suggests she didn’t originate from our gene pool, I’ll tell ya. Don’t worry, a 4 year stretch is cake, she’ll be out in no time. Besides she always liked to read, and these prisons usually have pretty big libraries. Ours is big enough for me to distill potato vodka in the AV room, and none of the guards even KNOW. Oh, and unless I sell heroine or suck a lot of dick in here, you’re probably never going to see that $450, sorry about that.

  • An Open Letter of Apology to My Parents
  • by Crom
  • Published on September 1st, 2004

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