The Most Tragic Day

The most tragic day of my life was when I lost my daughter and grandson. Two days after I got home from Bullhead City, Heather gave me a call, and then another. She asked me if I had any trouble returning the rental car. I lied to her. I told her everything went fine. She found an excuse to call me again.

‘They didn’t find anything wrong with the car?”

‘Like what?”

Heather lied to me about taking that car for another trip to Oatman, this time with two drunks onboard. On the way to the Vegas airport, Tyler announced;

“Linda peed her pants and made a funny!”

No one said a thing. I now understood why Bill Cornwell was being a gentleman, by letting me sit in the front seat next to my daughter, who was driving. After all, we would be parting ways. I dropped them off at their airline and went to the car rental. I looked at the back seat Bill sat in,and there was a GIANT PEE STAIN! 

When I read the fake concern for my mental health post, I read Linda’s response. “Well said! Time to move on!” This is typical of alcoholics and their famous DENIAL. A five year old child had busted her pee-stained ass – but good! Now, I backed my grandson up when Bill and Heather called me a parasite. But, it was already – over! Turn out the lights. Heather let me know she prefers two drunks over me, and, she bid these drunks to bond with Tyler.

Big Bill Cornwell took my offspring to a famous bar, and shared his dream of owning one. Heather told him Vicki and I had come into some money. He was trying to hit us up for money to invest in Bill’s bar, he was going to name….Big Bullshitters! Just kidding. I think Patrice told me she was part Gypsy. What part would that be..The Big Bullshiter part, anything to make your money – hers! I am going to keep a close eye on the Coach! These three morons did not get it, I used to be one of them! They thought they were pulling the wool over my eyes! Have I ever pissed my pants while drunk? Once. I didn’t like it. I didn’t think it was “funny”.

Oh! Look who I found. My old drinking buddy, Richard. That’s him in the overalls.

My daughter, is a bully. She bullied me. She got children to hold me down, and drunken adults. Even – the unborn! Well, guess what. I don’t give a shit anymore. It’s my turn!

John Presco

Copyright 2019

My Drinking Buddy ‘The Splitee’

Richard Swartz held the world record for the fifty yard dash – on his hands. Richard was a member of Synanon, and was one of Chalres Dederich’s bodyguards that I learn from Wikipedia, were called the Imperial Marines.

After Richard lost his wife and two year old son, he entered Synanon. After crying about losing his child, they made him wear a dress to meetings. They got him into a weightlifting program to man him up.

One day, Richard made a break for it. He told me Dederich was ordering his bodyguards to beat people up.

“Did you beat people up?” I asked.
“Yes! But, then I was being asked to do more then that.”

When Richard and three other of Imperial Marines went shopping, they ordered to keep an eye on each other – because no one could be trusted now – Swartz ran out the back of the grocery store, and ran for his life.

“I ran as hard as I could for over a mile before I dare look back.”

I had met Richard in a neighborhood bar. In two months all my tough Oakland friends, who all drank Mexcian beer, told me to get rid of Richard, or I could no longer be their friend.

“I tried to get rid of him, but, he can’t take a hint. He sees himself as my bodyguard.”

Bill Cornwell took the rental car through its paces on the windy road to Oatman Arizona. He told his captive audience it was his dream to drive this stretch of Route 66. He pointed out to Tyler that this was the road in the movie Cars. My grandson could care less, and I have the video I took with my camera to prove it. Like myself, he is feeling queezy, because we are being bounced around in the back seat like crazy. Bill is way over the speed limit. Twice we were airborne. Not able to see what was coming due to the height of the front seats, Tyler is now saying he is car sick and needs to throw up. In disgust, Bill pulls the car over. While Heather Hanson tends to Tyler in the middle of the desert, Bill turns and says this to me;“You know he’s faking being sick just to get attention from his mother. I’ve been working to break him of this habit.”

When you are on the verge of meeting your daughters new boyfriend, you pray it is not – this guy!

When we picked Bill up in Laughlin where he took the bus from Vegas, he was extremely hung over at four in the afternoon. He had been on a two-day drinking binge at the bachelor party. He was not good company.

“I’m feeling queasy.” he told my daughter. “I need a greasy piece of pizza.”

Being in recovery I knew Bill needed another drink, but, it was time to do the family thing we came here to do. Play Time For Billy was on hold. Well, not quite. We went marching off in this big store looking for the perfect greasy slice for Baby Billy who wanted his bottle. He is telling us a greasy piece of pizza coats his stomach, and makes it all better. Tyler spots something he wants, and Bill tells him he can’t have it. I head off on my own looking for a new toilet seat for Vicki’s spare bathroom because the old one broke when I sat on it.

Returning with my wooden find, twirling it on my finger and whistling Dixie, I spot Bill trying on cowboys hats.

“Ahh! Did Billy Boy get a sunburn waiting for us to pick him up. And now he wants mommy to buy him a cowboy hat.”

Waiting in line, I tell the Big Greasy Whiney Baby I bought this seat for my sister. I got a dumb blank look in response. What I was trying to say, was this;

“What did you get my sister, Bill, after all she paid to fly your lover and new bar buddy to Arizona to be here when you are.”

Not once in the six days we were there did Bill pay any attention to Vicki who forked over two gs for the family reunion wondering why rich aunt Linda contributed nothing, especially the driving. A normal – MAN – would have made a one on one call to Vicki and suggested just they go out for breakfast, get to know one another. After all, Bill is up drinking with aunt Linda till two!

Bill is not good in the morning, and is not his old self until ten at night. Is Bill just faking being an alcoholic so he can get all my daughter’s loving attention? Or, is he the real deal?

“Why can’t Linda pick you up in Vegas?” Vicki asked, because she had to get up at 4:00 A.M. and go to work. The same question was asked in regards to the trip home. It was then I came up with the solution of renting a car. Bill commandeered that car and took me and my grandson hostage – with Heather’s approval.

Heather went out of her way to make Baby Billy’s dream come true, and charged me an arm and a leg to order me an electric toothebrush so my teeth won’t fall out.

After calling my grandson a fake and liar, I wanted to ask him to step out of the car and come look down at the desert from this high place, and shove him down the embankment. I would then hurry my child and grandchild in the car before the Narcissistic Monster could climb up and lay more of his selfish evil bullshit on us while he endangers our lives!

I am leaving this and other posts as a time capsule so my grandson can find them when he grows older and wonders what became of me.

Above are photos of my six year old grandson in a bar in Oatman where they drove in the rental car. My daughter lied to me on the phone when I asked if she took that car to Oatman. On the way back from Oatman, an adult took a big healthy pee in the back seat. Did Bill scare the piss out of that person with his maniac driving? Did that person tank up on beer in Oatman because some folks can’t go anywhere without a shit-load of liquor in them?

Now we know why Linda could not pick us up at the airport. Bathrooms are sparse in the desert. On several occasions Heather pulled over to let Tyler out for good desert wizz, a fact I threw in my daughter’s face when she tried to blame my grandson for wizzing in that back seat – after she alas admitted someone had – and that someone had to be a woman, cause real dudes let it all hang out.

“What pee stain?”

How much lying drunken driving is going on with a seven year old faker and liar on board – who has to be weened of the loving attention of his mother?

Waaaah! Does Baby Billy want his bottle?

Catching your daughter in a lie is no fun. At least one of these liars should have been wearing a diaper – a Trophy Diaper!

Dudes like Bill Cornwell get daughters to lie to their parents, off the top, sooner then later, so they can control them, count on them to focus all their attention on them – and not the critical parent who is going to examine the new boyfriend – because that is traditionally their duty.

Four months later Bill calls me and tells me I am on the verge of losing my daughter and grandson because I ruined Tyler’s trip to the Grand Canyon by getting tired. I believe Bill is a psychopath who deep down inside believes my grandson ruined Bill’s drive to the Canyon, he getting car-sick while Bill was – in the Zone – he in seventh heaven because all the attention was on him.

Is it possible Tyler is faking being queasy in the stomach in order to compete with Queasy Baby Billy for his mother’s attention?

Jon Presco

About Royal Rosamond Press

I am an artist, a writer, and a theologian.
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