On Father's Day, Nothing Says "I Care"
Like Fucking Frank Haskins

by Frank Haskins

You would think that a guy could catch a break on Father's Day. Not when you're Frank Haskins. For me, Father's Day is just another day of getting your poop pounded.

For me, Father's Day began with the stench of stale puke. In the middle of the night while I slept, my drunken asshole teenage son stumbled into my room, ralphed, and then proceeded to his room where he passed out. So on Father's Day, I woke up with my bedroom smelling like the restaurant scene in Monty Python's "The Meaning of Life." So I grabbed the cat litter and spread it around the room to soak up the puke, and the goddamn cat, seeing the litter everywhere, comes in and takes a dump right on my fucking bedroom floor.

Next, my teenage daughter shows me her new tongue stud. I ask her why she got her tongue pierced, and she says it was "for her boyfriend." She then takes off to spend the day with my soon-to-be-ex-wife and her future stepfather, because they're going to spend the day sailing on his yacht. After she leaves, I read an article in the paper about how tongue studs increase male sexual satisfaction when getting a blowjob.

My douchebag son is still passed out, so I figure fuck it, I'll go visit my old man for Father's Day. When I get there, he informs me that because of his swollen prostate, it takes him 20 minutes to take a piss, his fridge conked out on him this morning, and he's run out of Depends. He then tells me that all men in the Haskins family are doomed to getting fucked over, again and again. So we got blitzed on a case of warm Pabst Blue Ribbon and passed out on the couch. I woke up later with a splitting headache, and the smell in the air informed me that Dad had crapped his pants. Mom is out of the house, so I'm fucked again.

And remember, "God couldn't be everywhere, so it's a cinch for Satan to fuck Frank Haskins on Father's Day."