During the second half of my high school career I faced many challenges when it came to my father and his wife. Surviving the zoo they called home, dealing with his and hers drunk fits and drama, being thrown out twice for no reason; and two more times after for payback. I dreaded going to my father's. In front of their house was a rather heavy stone gargoyle that came with the wife. I had always hoped it would get stolen (It wasn't an unsafe neighborhood but we had our fair share of car break-ins). Yet through two years or so of neighborhood problems the gargoyle remained. Each time I would be dropped off at my father's by a friend, or a friend's parents, I would offer them (jokingly of course) a free gargoyle and of course the answer was always a chuckle followed by a no. However, one night a week or so after my junior year of high school was finished, I was at a campfire in the back yard of some people I had just met...a block over, and lined up with my father's. A young man under the influence of something  showed up and we began to talk. As with everyone else I offered him one free gargoyle. To my surprise after questioning my seriousness he, with great joy, said yes. So around midnight I walked across the alley, and then my street, with this person I just met. With a light on in the living room he and I crept up to the porch, rocked the gargoyle back and forth until we got it off its podium and carried it back to his vehicle setting it in his back seat with the seatbelt around it (Don't worry, we're safe). A few weeks later I showed up to see some reactions playing the whole "Where'd the gargoyle go??" card. To my knowledge, just like the gargoyle, I got away with it. The gargoyle was replaced with a weighed down cooler with a paper on it written in sharpie, "$50 for the return of our 200lb CONCRETE gargoyle."

So I decided to write a small poem of how I imagine his wife acted for a month or so during the mourning process.