Olman

 My Olman had 3 personalities and we’d cycle them by his beer nights. The Day. The Day After. And The Day After the Day After.

Jester:
On “The Day” anything goes. We ruled the house. He’d be like this chortling Jaba puffing smoke and telling jokes. He’d balance beer cans to the ceiling. He’d eat lit cigarettes and talk like he cared. The house would be full of friends and laughter and a never-ending party. If I asked if I could drive his car by myself, he’d say yes.
If I asked if I could have 10 boys up to my room,
he’d say yes.
If I asked him for the moon and the stars, he’d say yes and somehow give them to me.
We’d write poems together.
We’d play the drawing game.
“I’ll draw a line, Bubadit, and you guess what it is.
“A peacock!” I’d shout.
He’d draw another line.
“A steamboat!” I gleefully cry.
“A dream.” I guess.
And all his drawings were perfect.
He’d buy $100 dollars worth of Chinese food and peppermint stick ice cream
from Brigham’s for the whole house. I sat at his feet as much as I could.
He was the wisest and most hilarious man I’ve ever known.
He was my father.
But I knew he’d soon be gone.

Marquis de Sade:
The Day After, George and I would sit at the doorway of his bedroom
and watch the Jaba awaken from his coma. We’d listen to him talk in his sleep
and watch his toes play bongo drums.
He’d develop fairly strategic plots and characters using different voices.
But we better not laugh too loud or he’d wake up and hold our whole world ransom.

One time he locked Ruth out of the house because she had too many drinks
at her cousin’s house.
Another time I had to call 20 friends to cancel the party the Jester said I could have.
I should have known better.
Once, he lay in front of Judy’s car so she couldn’t go out on a date.

Another time, I watched from the window of my little pantry bedroom
as Ruth ascended the stairs with streams of blood running down her face
on to her white nightgown after the Marquis smashed her glasses into her face.

He kicked my brother Bill into the wood box when he hadn’t filled it.
But chill, he’ll be gone by tomorrow.

Bantam Rooster:
"The Day After the Day After the Day After," Walter Cronkite ruled the air
and you better not make a peep.
Have dinner on time and don’t talk during it. Bed by 9:00.
Don’t go within a 10-foot radius of this anti-social bastard.
I guess it was ok if you like reform school.
At least the house was quiet and I got my homework done.
But hey, the Jester’s coming back tomorrow.