After her divorce, Ann would dump her kids on mom and go out out bar hoppin’. She pursued that with a vengeance. She got married as a teenager and, by god, now she was gonna enjoy her freedom . . . the fun party times she’d never experienced before. Her and her girl friend from the gym would rat comb their hair up real big and put on their pink short shorts.
She met alot of men and had alot of drinks bought for her. She “took up” with quite afew but nothin’ worked out with any of “those jerks.” Some she brought home unexpectedly and sleeping arrangements would be altered for privacy. Somebody carried to the couch . . . somebody carried to the back room. Kids waking up, rubbing their eyes, wondering how they got where they were and then a man coming out of my sister’s room.
Once a guy refused to displace the kids . . . said he “jist didn’t feel right about it.” And the next morning, the kids walked through the living room . . . passed a stranger snoring on the couch. They got their bowls of sugar coated puffs and turned on the T.V. The guy woke up and was actually nice and friendly to them but he didn’t “work out” either. He told Ann to feed them better food and not all that processed junk. “He’s nuts,” Ann said. “Bastard won’t even eat chocolate cake, he said there’s more chemicals in cake than in all the dope he took in ’Nam . . . fuck that drug addict.”