“The greatest soap opera – ever!”

After not seeing my father for six years or more, I paid him a visit just after my reading at the Berkeley Psychic Institute. Vic called up his newest best friend, and told her his fake son was in town. She got in her car and sped to the scene. Bursting in the door, she found me in the kitchen, pulled up a chair, leaned over and said;

“You’re family is the greatest soap opera – ever! Tell me your story. I’m dying to hear your version.”

Now before you hear the proof there is a heaven, and perhaps, God, let introduce some of the cast. Above is a photo of a desk. Above the desk is the photo of Svetlana Perlowin, whom the King of Pot allegedly married in the Fed lockup. Svetlana is a famous Russian spy who slept with an FBI agent, and got secretes out of him. There is going to be a major movie made about Bruce. He spent several months living in the basement of my surrogate family, the family who invited me to Christine, Thanksgiving, even Easter dinner. He was in business with Abbie Hoffman, who came to my kind mother’s house to do business down in the basement. The last holiday diiner I ate with one of my kin was 1969.

My father met with Bruce, he looking for an upward mobile young man to help him in his loan business he ran out of his home in Lafayette. At the time I did not know my father was involved in drug smuggling with the Mexican Mafia.

Now, let us behold Dee-Dee, Vic’s second and last wife who died in the Lafayette home of acute alcoholism – after she shot Vic in the back with his nine millimeter! When Vic took me on a tour of his new home, he brought me before the window frame that saved Pop’s life. Vic had made it out the door, Dee-Dee hot on his tr ail, she firing the last round in the magazine at him through the window, that richettered into Vic’s back.

“Poor Dee-Dee. she was having the DTs. I tried to get her to stop, even took her to her AA meetings, but to no avail. I didn’t call the police, because I knew she was dying,and did not want to see her die in jail. So, I took care of her, until she expired in her sleep. Did I tell you the bullet is still lodged in my back?”

“If you did, I missed that part.”

When you grow up with two lying alcoholic parents, there is a War Decoding Room in the back of your head, that gest to work translating the hidden meaning of things said to you, does its best to arrive at the truth.

“O.K. John! Just one more second. We almost have it! O.K. Here we go. “Your father in need of his old drinking buddy, got Dee-Dee drunk. When she awoke with a hangover, she reached for the gun under the pillow and fired at Vic while he slept. She missed. Your father ran for his life. Dee-Dee fired off seven more rounds. She missed again, but with the last bullet, she plugs her tormentor in the back. Now, here’s the unbelievable part. Vic doesn’t go to the hospital because he knows a police report has to be made. He does not want the cops nosing around, so he grins and bares it. Your father was a real trooper. Fortunately, with Dee-Dee’s loving care, there was no infection.We think she used a Chinese polstice. You kow she’s part Chinese?”

When my daughter and Bill Cornwell told me I ruined Tyler’s trip to the Grand Canyon, because I got tired, my Code Room got shorted out. What the…………! Alas up and running again, I got a report.

“Are you sitting down John. Because I got bad news for you. No one wants to know they have gotten old, because they got sober, and just couldn’t keep up with Rat Pack. Heather understood there was one hell of party going on at the Prescos, but, she got there too late. And besides, the AA snitch had gotten all self-righteous, and spoiled that party. If he had just got himself locked up at an asylum, then all those Dead Presco would still be alive. But, the party is going strong over at Lindas. Her branch of the family is now ready to hook up and open Bills Bar & Grill, and nake a killing partying!”

O.K. That makes sense! Thanks!

Back to Vics best friend who is on pins and needles.

“O.K. Here goes. You know Vic believes I am not his son, but the product of one of Rosemary’s betrayals. What you are going to help me do, is prove Iam vics son, because Vic told me you are the one person he cant lie to – and God knows he tried! Several days ago some psychics said I died, and own a picture of own inception. We are going to to go into the living room, and ask my father two questions.

What were you drinking when John was conceived?
Were you playing cards?

I saw my father and mother naked on the beach when I died, and they were playing cards, and sipping martinis.”

You should have seen this woman’s eyes. They were as big as saucers. She could not believe her good fortune to know the Presco. Before we got eh proof I died – and rose from the dead. Let us gaze upon another photo of my step-father, the Vietnam Vet, whom Rosemary put in jail for a year, after lying to the police. A year later when he got out, and his wife died, he could not believe Vicki when she told Robby our mother was a severe alcoholic. She hid her disease very well, took it like man, would have belted down another quart of Vodka and smoked another cartoon of cigarettes, on her death bed, if she could. Rosemary last words went something like this;

“Vicki! Let’s go.Let’s get out of here, got to a bar,and have a drink!”

You should have stuck with me kid, they guy that owns the greatest soap opera ever!

Tune in next time folks!

Wait a minute. I left out the pic of the young secretary that Christine believes our father ODed when he slipped her too much date rape drug. Perhaps it’s best Heather was born too late!

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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1 Response to “The greatest soap opera – ever!”

  1. Reblogged this on Rosamond Press and commented:

    My father proved I died.

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