Excerpt from The Bloody Aftermath of a Riot

part of my Dad's biography

"I awoke from a terrible dream and looked at my notes about the next volume of the book, the biography of my Dad and I noticed some changes that I should make. Then I heard a voice over my shoulder 'Son, what are you doing?' I said 'I'm making some revisions...' I saw a hand reach out and turn the moniter off and take my notes and throw them into the trash and said 'To Hell you are. Revisions are for writers who don't know how to talk to girls. You get it right the first time or you don't get it right at all! Do you understand me?!' I laughed alittle under my breath and agreed. He grabbed me by the back of my shirt and led me to his makeshift library that used to be my old bedroom but now was lined with bookcases filled with books about all kinds of chaos along with one of those retro record players. I found a seat and watched Him as He filled His glass with more wine. I don't know how long He had been indulging in those spirits but I knew that He was in a good mood and I would get another a good story about some time before I or my Brother was born or a time after we were born but couldn't remember. He rummaged through His records, pulled out some Beatles one and said 'I bought this in Germany before I met your Mother.' Even in His 70's, He still strikes an imposing figure, tall, confident and with the conviction that there wasn't anything left that life could hurl at Him that He couldn't handle. I watched Him take the record out of the sleeve, place it on the turntable, lifted the stylus then looked at the track listing on the back of the record, I saw Him smile then He placed the needle on the groove of the song He wanted to hear. I heard the opening riffs to that one number 'I've just seen a face' and He sat down and looked at all the books around Him that He had collected from His travels. We didn't talk while the song was playing itself out. I could tell that He was thinking about what to say to me when the song ended. After the three or so minutes passed, the sound stopped. 'When that one war broke out, the one, the first one that that crook started over oil I was so afraid that they would bring back the draft and those people would take you and your Brother away from me and your Mother to go die in a desert. I saw it happen years ago when I was younger. Then again, I don't think that you two boys would have lasted long in the military because both of you always thought everything was funny and I doubt you two would take orders without asking why. Excuse me, let me put on another record.' He got up, handed me a bottle of the cheap wine He had under the table and picked out another Beatles record, I think it was Abbey Road, no, it was, wait, no it was Abbey Road. That song 'Come Together' came on and He returned to His seat and told me the story about how much He hated Nixon then He started to trail off...'1987 or was it 1988? The mind often dwells in the past when you get older and sometimes you can't keep track of much after awhile. Work is life and it doesn't matter what form it takes. I've always felt apart from everybody which is why your Mother has such problems with me because I don't convey those romantic feelings because I'm not that way, I wasn't raised that way. My Father was a cold sort of son a b***h who married a a young girl who wasn't right upstairs and he had her committed for a little while then took her back only to have her committed again. I look at life like a fence that needs mending and nothing else. Remember what those krauts had displayed on the front gate of Auschwitz...'Arbeit Macht Frei'..."---from The Bloody Aftermath of a Riot: The Biography of Randall E. Pretzer Vol. II by Dan Pretzer