Santa Claus is a pimp with a .38 special

If my dad’s dad dropped dead I would feel a generic kind of sorrow. Fuck you, don't judge me. Hell, I’m willing to bet my dad shares my sentiment.  The opening four words of this blog should be an indicator of how insignificant he is in my life.  If I were to feel any sorrow it would be for my dad, who would have no living parent. So when my dad asked me to visit his dad with him I replied “is he still alive?” 

Of course, my response was a mental one. But really was he? I had been under the impression that my dad’s dad was dead to him and that my dad had giving him a proper burial deep within the crevices of his mind. Over the years, somehow my dad developed a heart and I found myself traveling through Texas heat that rivaled hell's lobby, to see ole grand dad!

From the onset, I figured my “grandfather” (ok I know it’s bad) is a creature of habit. His current wife is named Dorothy like my dad’s mom. Apparently he has a fetish for women named Dorothy. I gave her a half hearted hug which probably communicated “you're the impostor grandma Dorothy. You’re not my granny!” Then it was on to acknowledge the reason I was here. I mean the reason why I’m here is apparent. Grandpa had sex with the real grandma Dorothy and then had dad. Then dad had sex with...ew! The reason I was standing in my grandpa’s living room embracing him with a hug you would give to a peripheral friend was unclear. 

Dr. Spencer Wells does work on tracking the movement of the human population through DNA samples from around the world. Wells (or scientist) has found that the Y chromosome goes unchanged from father to son. Looking at my grandfather I realized that.

1. He looks exactly like my father.
2. He looks exactly like my brothers and me.
3. He looks like my nephews.
4. I’m gonna look like a black Santa Claus when I become an old man.

The way he walks and talks is similar as well. I mean jeez, out of my 30 years on this fucked up planet (what? it's not fucked up?) I’ve seen this guy maybe three times that I can remember. I find it fascinating and I wonder, can personality traits be passed along genetically as well?

 
Anyway, my grandfather disappeared and reappeared in the living room. Wasn’t magic he just walked from the living room to some other room then back. When he came back he was holding a Crown Royal bag.The only bag a black Saint Nick would have. In a not so perfect world there would be Crown Royal, condoms or a frat boy’s dick inside the bag. The frat boy would be attached of course. Depending on one’s frame of reference we weren’t lucky enough to have any of those. It was a family heirloom of sorts. He was passing down a 38 special he had received from his brother before he died and now grandpa was giving it to my dad. 

 
The look on my dad's and my face was a unanimous “what the fuck kinda heirloom is this?”  I don’t know but I have this strange suspicion that this isn’t the kind thing that gets  passed through the generations. I’m just saying. I mean damn grandpa, people give rings, charms and trinkets. Hell, some people even passed down an entire fortune. You passed down a gun that has probably shot a rival pimp because somebody’s hoe chose. Even though I just imagined a scenario that is wholly untrue, it is possible. Thanks grandpa, you reappear into my life and you give me a gun. You’re swell! Love you! Yeah the sarcasm is thick. On a lighter note, if this Y chromosome shit is true he probably has a decent size dick. Thanks grandpa!