| Doc Faustus |
02-10-2010 06:27 AM |
I didn't really have a father growing up, my mother married my stepfather when I was 8, but still, the closest thing to a father I had was my grandfather. We lived in my grandfather's house, my mother took care of his laundry, his bills and his food and made sure he took medication for his bipolar. She also took care of her younger brother, was a mother to him after his mother died when he was 13. He left home years later. never really contacting anyone of us and never having anything to do with his father. When my grandfather got a stroke, he came back on the scene with a new girlfriend, an obnoxious Southern girl who couldn't wait to start a family and had dollar signs in her eyes. My grandfather had been a successful engine mock up specialist. He was a millionaire before the age of 30 and had his money tied up in lots of valuable collectibles. It didn't seem like a coincidence. When my grandfather died, my uncle offered to handle the estate. My mother was exhausted from taking care of a stroke victim for a year and a half, so let him do it. He called up his brother come down to the house and they divided a bunch of my grandfather's belongings among themselves when we were out of the house. He sold the house we'd lived in to a guy who fixes up old houses and makes a tidy profit and did so for pretty damn cheap. He embezzled about fifty thousand dollars from the estate, but we couldn't provide legal proof because he was handling the books. My family as screwed out of about one hundred fifty thousand dollars that could have been used to start a new life by my uncles. And I was mad. They had all but rifled through the grave of the man I'd known as my father. My great great grandmother was a gypsy and when my mother, my brother or I wish for somebody to suffer, they usually do. Our intent is powerful and doesn't mess around. I cursed my uncle, wishing him to suffer financial woe, to lose every penny he gained dishonestly and for his offspring to be retarded and deformed. He married the girl, transferred to Georgia where there was a job waiting for him. A job that he lost when he his first son was born; with Down Syndrome. Sometimes I regret asking fate to give him what he deserves, other times I feel proud. Still just about the worst thing I've ever done.
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