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  • Austin Hamblin

Day #17: The Pain of Larry


#17: The Pain of Larry

Today was a good day, but altogether it was a pain. I had an interview this morning for a job less than 5 minutes away from me, and it went great. I managed to land the job and went to take my drug test. I have orientation in two days and then start on Monday. I somehow got roped into helping Kayla’s grandpa, Larry, into digging something he had sold out of his shed. I wasn’t really excited about this to begin with because Larry is the most ornery old man I have ever seen. We had to move so much shit. It all had to be done his way. We couldn’t just take something out, we had to take out the next thing he told us to, and it had to go to a certain spot in the yard for some reason (it would be going back in after we got the firetruck he had sold out). There was tons of heavy stuff, and since he doesn’t get around much, guess who had to move all of it. I moved a lot of things I shouldn’t have by myself, but I did because I wanted to be fucking done and away from him. He pulled out this car via a fork truck, but the car didn’t have any brakes. Since he drove back fast and stopped I literally stopped the car from slamming into his fork lift and doing some damage all by myself. Now, hours later, my body is feeling it, and I have a massive headache. When we finally started to get things put back inside, it became a game of “while I have some help here, let’s do this also.” I was really getting hot. On my dad’s side, we would just argue and yell at each other, make up, and keep working. With Larry, everyone was afraid to say anything to him, so we just had to do it his way. My favorite part was how he would tell you to do something a certain way and then yell at you for doing it the way he asked… We ended up being out at his place for about 4.5 hours. When we left, I was exhausted and filthy. As we were leaving, I was told, “bye.” Not “thank you” and no offer for money, even though we fucking dug out something I can promise you he wasn’t taking less than 1k for. A “thank you, I really appreciate it” and even a $10 dollar bill would have been appreciated… We worked through lunch! My uncle Dean buys and sells tools, and I often go with him to help set up. Dean always buys me lunch, brings soda/water, and pays me. He will visit with someone, and I’ll keep loading, and he’ll say, “Slow down bubba, you’re working to hard.” I have no problem helping friends or family, but a thank you would seriously be great. Now I know there are two sides to each story, so let's talk about a few other experiences with Larry. We have lived in our house for about two years now. The house is in my name, but it’s both mine and Kayla’s house. We purchased it when I was 21 and she was 19. I think your first home is a pretty big deal, let alone being so young. He has never come to see it or even expressed any interest to come and see it. He did gift us a bed when we moved in. My dad and Uncle Dean drove over with a trailer to pick it up, and Kayla and I met them at Larry’s. He yelled at Kayla (making her cry) because “Your going to put this nice bed on that filthy trailer!!! How dare you!” First off, it wasn’t dirty, and second off, it was as if we had insulted everyone he ever loved and kicked him the nuts all at once. He recently got a facebook and posts the dumbest racist horseshit posts ever, then cute cats… So he might not be evil, maybe just stupid? I know people try to brush elders being racist or homophobic under the table, but I disagree. My sister is married to a black man named Kishawn. He is a seriously great person and dad. My grandmother was raised by German immigrants on a farm in small town Iowa. She wasn’t racist. She might have been at points in her life, but her eyes were opened when my sister married Kishawn. I think it can be the easy way to say, “Well it was a different time.” But honestly, it’s a fucking cop out. For the record Kayla told me to write about this. I’m not afraid to write this because I doubt Larry will suddenly take an interest in me or reading. I’m sure someone who knows him will get mad and say I’m wrong. All I have to ask is, “How can my opinion and perception of a person be wrong?” You can disagree with my opinion, but it doesn’t make me wrong. It’s all perception. End rant.

Everyday I will be posting an entry in my writing challenge 100 Days which has been collected into a print collection. If you are interested in purchasing a print collection:

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