Mighty Dave King

   
   "Mighty Dave King"

   My biological father, pure Nordic, hair as blonde as the Sun, and eyes as blue as the Arctic Ocean itself.  They told me to hate him for screwing a whore.  A whore that assisted in his death.  Too bad, I know who she is--the devil, and there are many devils among us, whispering charms into our ears, flattering us with their wicked lips, all in order to emasculate us.
   My Dad slapped me in the face.  It was my best moment.  I love him for slapping me.  It was goddamn beautiful.  He didn't discharge no pussy.
   Played college ball.  Took on men twice his size.  Numerous concussions, and he loved every minute of it.  Pain is good.  It lets you know that you are alive.  Embrace the pain.  Love it.
   Too, he wrote code.  Put computers into rockets, more or less.  And never bragged of it.  So meek and gentle, never giving himself credit, unless it was too instruct me.
   He sat me down, saying:  "Mark, you think you've done drunk-driving.  No, I've done drunk-driving.  You think you had girls.  No, I had girls, every single one I wanted."  Good for him.  You will not take my father from me, nor the lessons he taught.  You already did.  And now--Dave King is back.  And he'll screw the whore that stole everything from him and his son, right up the ass.  Good for him.  Go get them father.  Now and forever.