They Call Me Rooster


This is Rooster. His actual name is Denley, but he won't answer to it. When I first met him he introduced himself to me by saying, "I'm Rooster," with strong emphasis on the 'roo' part, so that it sounds like ROO-sta.

I may be beating Rooster's ass tonight.

Now, I know some of you have been concerned and emailing to ask what's wrong, but let me assure you, this has nothing to do with any of that. I'm not mad at Rooster, not yet anyway. I just talked to My Wife on the phone. She said Rooster is running in and out of his house, cursing and screaming at anyone and everyone he sees. In the past he has shot at peoples' wives with a BB rifle and nearly been beaten up for it already. He blew his mind out with drugs years and years ago. He's just a little bit crazy.

As you might imagine, Rooster scares My Wife just a little bit. You can't predict what he'll do. And if he has come after My Wife by the time I get home, or if he comes after me when I pull into my driveway, I'm going to teach him to either respect me and my property or fear me for the pain I can and will inflict upon him. There is some Irish deep inside of me and by God I'm not afraid to use it.

We'll just see how this goes. I'm about to head towards home. Rooster will be there, as always.

UPDATE: Rooster wasn't there. And his mother, yes, his mother, wasn't home either. There was a roadblock on my way home and I couldn't get through, so I called My Wife. She said there was a helicopter flying overhead and a murder on the news. A man, his wife, and 2 of their kids were found dead in their home. Another child is at the police station and they won't say if that child is being charged or simply has nowhere to go.

But Rooster is gone and I'm home eating pizza.

So nevermind.
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