I wake up every morning screaming at the ceiling because it is too low. I slink off my bed onto the floor because my legs are too cold that they don’t work for the first fifteen minutes of my day. I try to stop screaming but I just get so angry in the mornings. While I lay on the floor screaming I think of all of the reasons I hate Millennials and then as I am clawing my way to the kitchen, still screaming, I think how none of those reasons compare to how much I hate my neighbor Jerry.
As I sip my morning coffee and finally become a real person, I remember the time I was waiting in line at Starbucks and made a comment to the teen trash standing next to me about how long the line was. Instead of joining in with me and disparaging the employees of an establishment I frequent, this Millennial scum had the gall to keep writing down a Tweet, probably about how much she loves Bernie Sanders or something. It really rubbed me the wrong way that this teen girl would rather engage in a serious political debate with her peers than share a meaningless interaction with me, a strange older man.
However, this yuppie garbage is nothing compared to the time Gary spilled hot coffee all over my second wife’s blouse and then made a pass at her when he came back with a wet sponge. I told him, “Geruy, if you look at my wife like that again I’ll pop you one on your ugly chin.”
“No need for all that, neighbor. I just was trying to help after making such a mess.”
“Whatever man, just don’t do it again.” God, can you believe this guy? The worst.
Boy I am really getting heated just picturing Jury’s face and that smug grin he always has. I can’t believe him. Speaking of smiling though, have you noticed how Millennials hate when you tell them to smile more? It’s like they don’t understand that my every wish needs to be granted immediately otherwise I will start to get loud. I once told the waitress that was serving me and my drinking buddies at Hooter’s to smile, and you know what she did? She told me I was pathetic. Me! I guess it’s pathetic to have fun with your friends at a classy establishment, enjoying a nice turkey burger and yelling about football to anyone that cares to listen. She was the pathetic one for working at a place like Hooters. Where is her father anyway?
You know, come to think of it, I would be willing to bet my Hummer that my neighbor Garv would have a daughter like that. He never would punish his children for the slightest grievances or reign over his house like a totalitarian dictator. What a nerd. My first rule in parenting was to always act like I was right even if I wasn’t and to belittle my kids at any point I could, bringing down their self worth to an all time low.
I’m sorry, I have gotten off track. I originally was going to write this article about how Millennials have ruined almost every good thing in my life, but then I kept picturing my neighbor Germ’s stupid, awful, perfect, dumb face and I would get angry. I just don’t understand why he won’t talk to me when he is out watering his beautiful garden or accept my request to be friends on Facebook or return my long gazes when he is clipping toenails on his back porch and enjoying a cigar, something I have only ever dreamed of doing with such a beautiful man. Why won’t you return my love, Gary? What happened to us? God.
Your dad lives alone in his two-bedroom house with regret and clinical depression. He writes op-ed pieces for his favorite Golf magazine and works at a mid-sized steel manufacturer. You don’t talk.
This article was written by Nathan Ellwood whose Dad likes Jerry and they all get along, especially on their annual fishing trips. Follow him for more on Twitter @NPEllwood