A retarded monkey comes through for me!

Just when I thought things had calmed down, another fine example of human ignorance presents itself, and I again return to the Sanitorium. Not that I don't see these examples every day! It's just that they're things we all experience, every day, all the time, and I like to give you something new to think about. You might say I've been given a gift... at the expense of my beautiful, seventeen year-old daughter.

My daughter starts her senior year in high school this month. I know, I don't look near old enough to have a daughter that age, I get that all the time (yeah, right). She plays the trumpet in the high school band, and has worked very hard for the past four years to make lead, and this year she's it! I'm extremely proud of her, and was looking forward to a few stories from band camp, which she'd left for on Monday. Yesterday, Friday, I got a call from my ex-wife telling me a story I didn't want, nor ever expected, to hear.

Apparently on Monday, she fell down and hurt her knee. I don't know what caused the fall because once her mother picked her up, they went straight to the ER and the doctor there put her on pain meds, so she's a bit tired, a bit loopy. The story my ex is telling me is that she pulled up Friday to pick my daughter up (this is on FRIDAY, keep this in mind, Roundtowners), and she's hobbling along toward the car. Even the other parents are apparently asking what happened, because my daughter's knee is facing the opposite one and her foot's still pointed straight ahead. The picture I get in my head when thinking about this is making me very angry, and I don't believe it has anything to do with the steroid regimen I've been on for the last month. I mean, what would you feel? Concern, certainly, anger, absolutely, but what I experienced when my ex was telling me this was flat-out, no-holds-barred RAGE! Now, you might be asking yourself "Why is he this angry, this enraged? Kids get hurt, don't they?" Yes they do. Indeed they do get hurt. I'm going to tell you why my anger, even as I type this, is building yet again.

No one, not one person, called my ex to let her know what happened. NO. ONE. AND, they didn't take my daughter to the ER when it happened. Let me say that again for the other retarded monkeys who weren't in attendance at this camp: NO ONE CALLED AND NO ONE TOOK MY DAUGHTER TO THE ER WHEN SHE FELL AND INJURED HERSELF! ON MONDAY! IT'S FRIDAY! Who the fuck was running this show?! Who, exactly, is the incompetent fuckhead who was in charge, and where the fuck did his tiny brain take it's vacation this week?! Oh, but wait right there, friends, this gets SOOO much better...

When my ex asked the retarded-monkey-fuckhead-who's-brain-picked-this-week-to-take-it's-vacation in charge if she was seen by a doctor, his reply was: she said she didn't need to go to the ER. Now, I can see my daughter saying this, maybe even believing it. But the fact of the matter is SHE'S SEVENTEEN! AND there was not one goddamned phone call to her mother making her aware of the situation, so that her mother could make the decision! Seriously?! I mean, SERIOUSLY?! Are you getting the picture? They let a seventeen year-old girl diagnose herself as okay to continue practicing marching formations on a knee that was clearly (even to parents casually strolling by to pick up their own kids) injured. Now, I've been through a knee injury, a very serious injury, in fact. It required surgery, and left me without an ACL and sans cartilage in my left knee. And after much physical therapy and drugs and crutches for months and a knee brace I still use occasionally, I can get around. And that's it. If there were a crazed gunman after my sorry ass for calling him a retarded-monkey-fuckhead-who's-brain-picked-this-week-to-take-it's-vacation, I'm fucked. I can't run on it. I can't take a jump-shot. I can't even do push-ups to stay in shape. But I'm mumble-mumble years old, and those things aren't as important to me as they might be to, say, a SEVENTEEN YEAR-OLD GIRL WHO HASN'T EVEN MADE IT OUT OF HIGH SCHOOL YET!

So, after she was seen by her doctor, who determined her knee was "loose," she has an appointment for an MRI on Wednesday. And I'll admit, it worries me. But what worries me the most is the disappointment my daughter will feel if she's kept from marching in her high school band her senior year. As the lead. A position she's worked so fucking hard to achieve.

I thought I'd take a bunch of peeled bananas to Sheridan High School in Perry County, Ohio for the retarded monkey who's clearly incapable of peeling his own. But I'm too afraid of my own anger for that. Because when it comes to my kids...

King Kong ain't got nothin' on me. Even a retarded King Kong.