Guess Who’s Coming To Thanksgiving Dinner?
My dad has a new friend. His name is Ronnie.
Ronnie is about seventeen years younger than my father, but they both grew up in the same city in Maine, a few blocks away. Ronnie made a living doing carpentry work, which is one reason why my dad got him to come down here to Kansas. My father, Rodney, purchased the house next door to his and he and Ronnie fixed it up together, along with my twin brother Kyle and his wife Shawna, who are currently living in it. Now Rodney and Ronnie are fixing his house the way that my mother, Luann, wants it.
There are a few things that the reader needs to know at this point.
My father has never had many friends. He never had "buddies". For him, most evenings were spent reading at the dinner table, sitting at his computer, or watching TV with Luann. He was never a drinker, never watched sports, never had "drinking buddies". Nothing. I suppose at sixty a man can change, but the only friends he really had in the twenty years I spent living with my parents were coworkers who I never actually ever met, which is what makes this entire situation so strange.
But, fear not, dedicated reader! It gets much stranger.
Ronnie, you see, is a transsexual.
Ronnie is a man that dresses like a woman.
And he is my father's new best buddy.
At first, I was in shock, which lasted about two weeks. First off, how the **** did he find someone like Ronnie? I assume that the reader is a veteran of the interwebs, and therefore knows that you don't just f*cking stumble into sh*t like this, unless you're browsing websites like "lewistontrannycarpenters.com" or "maine-ladyboys.net". Second, why does he actually NEED someone to help him fix up houses? My conservative-Republican father may be near sixty, but he's a manly fixer-upper man, who always tackled this sort of **** on his own. He used to try to get me or one of my brothers to help, but he quickly figured out that we only slowed him down. If solo home repair was an Olympic sport, like sprinting, my dad would have a f*cking gold medal.
My father and Ronnie spend a lot of time together. A few weeks ago my dad was telling me about the wonderful new car he bought : a white Chrysler convertible. I suppose that fact alone isn't too strange - my father, near sixty, decides to purchase a pretty white convertible, even though when my brothers and I were younger he told us time and time again not to buy a convertible, because every convertible's rubber sealing will eventually leak into the car. But hey, "do as I say, not as I do". But what gets REALLY strange is that when he went to check out the car early on a Sunday morning, rather than take my mother, who was asleep at the time, he went with Ronnie.
My dad has also lost weight - he gloats about finally being under 200 lbs for once, and is eager to share that fact with everyone, making him behave more like a jackass than I ever thought possible. Also, he hasn't cut his hair in over a year, which has given him that wonderfully unkempt, wispy-haired mad scientist look that is so "in" this season.
My brothers and I all concur that something is going on between them, and it's likely something involving penetration.
However, my mother seems blissfully ignorant. She talks about it any time I see her. She's the deliverer of most of these facts. But she has not tried putting them all together. Perhaps it's just inconceivable to her that her husband of thirty or so years (I'm guessing) is getting some "strange" (in this case, VERY "strange") on the side from a dude who dresses like a woman. We even recently shared the most incriminating evidence we have found : a receipt from a website called "nipple-charms.com", which bears my father's name and shipping address on it.
Maybe she just chooses to ignore it. Maybe it's just easier that way..
Maybe it IS just easier to just ignore something like this. At first I thought that if I just ignored it, it'd go away. But it has been three months now, and it has not gone away. I have not met Ronnie yet, but I have a feeling that I will - very, very soon.
Unfortunately, our time has come to an end for now, dear readers. I have delivered all of the facts that I possess to you, in neat little piles for your own mental digestion, and ask you to reach your own conclusions as to what is truly going on in my parent's household. Leave comments if you wish, or don't. All that I ask is that if you read this entry, you enjoy it's absurdity. Do not feel guilty for laughing, because despite my "proximity" to the situation, even I can appreciate its hilarity.
And so I leave you now, dear readers, with a question which will answer for you the purpose of this rare blog entry :
Guess who's coming to Thanksgiving dinner?
