I remember my Dad coming in through the front door late at night blood stained all down the front of his shirt from a big open cut right in between his eyes. I ran to him and hugged onto his leg. "What happened Dad?" He patted my head and took off his leather jacket." "Ahhh, I got into a fight son." "YOU DID!?" "Yeah...some ******* busted a bottle on my face. See?" He said, showing me the jagged cut. "You should see the other guy. I busted him up real good, boy." "But then why are you bleeding?" "Cause it was my fault, I wasn't paying attention. Hit me when I wasn't looking. See that's why I'm always telling you...be aware of your surroundings...at all times. When you don't pay attention, this is what happens." "Let's get the guns Dad...let's go handle this ****." And he laughed that infamous gut-shaking laugh of his walking down the hall into the bathroom to clean himself up and lick his wounds.