[CaptainBubba]

I never much liked my step-dad. He was large, abrasive, and generally not pleasant to look at. His odor was a perpetual cycle of cheap hooker’s perfume and beer saturated vomit. It was pretty much a successful night at home if I managed to avoid a conflict or some mortifying quasi-sexual situation with him. Despite his numerous faults, among them alcoholism and pedophilia, I would have to say the most disturbing was his fascination, nay, obsession, with Japanese animation. I can’t count the nights I would come home from a friends house at a late hour to be greeted only by the harsh teal glow of a television on my step-dad’s greasy unshaved visage, accompanied by the shrill and indecipherable cry of Japanese 13 year olds.

My step-father didn’t normally hit me except when I looked through his stuff, so I associate physical punishment and actual pain with viewing the covers of Hentai DVDs. Apparently he was concerned that I was going to steal it because, “You can’t buy that shit in the U.S yunno.”

I can’t much say I enjoyed anime like he did. In fact the more he watched it the more I began to associate the very dregs of existence with it. Today I can hardly watch a minute of Sailor Moon without the image of a sweat drenched beer belly chasing me down an infinite hallway while my legs move slower and slower. I suppose he didn’t understand this though, or maybe he was just too drunk too care when he asked me to go to a Cosplay with him in 2001.

“ Come on, you kids like this shit don’t you? Theres girls in skirts everywhere. You like girls by now don’t you faggot?” he said, all the while clutching my shoulder in his meaty, gorilla like paws.

“Please don’t touch me”

“ Well either way you’re going. I can’t be Goku without someone to go as Gohan, plus your mom wants us to spend more time or something.” he trailed off mumbling as he began to drink another beer.

I don’t mind dressing up. My mother used to dress me up when I was younger, though I can’t honestly recall why or what I was dressed as. The only thing I really minded about being forced to participate was having to be barraged with what I now found painful imagery everywhere. Also I do not watch the show Dragon Ball Z and was not aware that the character “Gohan” apparently has a landing strip.

By the time we arrived at the Cosplay meeting my dad was beyond inebriated and well into being trashed. Still in the car we sat, an awkward silence filling the space between us. He began to weep.

“ What the fuck am I doing?” he questioned. “ This anime crap is shit. Its all just shit”

And without a word the car began to move again. Faster. Faster. FASTER.

CRASH.

I woke only to be greeted by the bodies of at least 10 men and women. One of them was my step-father. Dressed in a poorly constructed orange karate uniform now covered in crimson blood, I can truthfully say I was never more pleased with his appearance. I think I could even see an inkling of a smirk on his face. Perhaps in his mind, in his last dying moments he thanked whatever benevolent deity had bestowed alcohol upon him. For it proved to be his only escape from the world he had been thrown into. And with him he freed 9 other men and women, all adorned in large indistinguishable costumes with bits of cardboard and tinfoil.

I suffered only minor lacerations from the accident, but I suppose I sort of deserve it. My “Gohan” costume was awfully fucking ridiculous.








Also I think id be hilarious if we did a parody of those Drunk Driving commericals where they show home video of people killed in drunk driving accidents while they're at b-day parties at something. If someone just modified some cosplay video to black out and say the dates of their lives then transition to a witty and upbeat ending praising their death itd be awesome.