Designated days for any particular suck. They magnify the bad things that happen. A death on Christmas is always treated as High Tragedy.
Yesterday, a neighbor's wife left him with their kids. Any other day, it's call your lawyer and hunker down. On Father's Day, it's down to the basement with a plastic sheet and a shotgun. The guy is really decent whose one weakness was the inability to squash a grapefruit into his wife's pleasing, though high maintenance face. Knuckles kept telling him, "but you only hafta do it once."
Knuckles own Father's Day was better, thanks for wondering. Cards, gifts, dinner. Nothing as poignant as Acidman's. But give it time.
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