Your Host with the Ghost

However. Often when getting food after marching practice, or on our scant breaks, I’d drive my friends to burger king or little ceasers or starbucks or whatever, and sometimes not all of my friends could afford the food they wanted. And well…food is food. I have a big appetite, and as long as I didn’t go crazy overboard and order catering for the whole band, a few extra burgers and shakes wouldn’t stand out on a monthly bill. So I bought my friends food. 

I did this for several months, and sometime during that came out to my parents. They both thought it was a phase, and that I would grow out of it. Since they’re not terrible people their approach to me having ‘a boy phase’ was to let me do my thing and wait for me to change my mind. I didn’t change my mind, and eventually they understood that, but that’s a whole other post. The point is my dad didn’t discourage me from transitioning, but avoided talking about it with me. He stopped calling me his daughter, but replaced it with child rather than son, that kind of thing.  

But back to the credit card. Eventually I started feeling guilty. TECHNICALLY I was obeying the rule ‘food and gas only’, but I knew I was bending it. I nervously admitted to him one day that sometimes…on occasion…once in a while… I’d buy a friend food. I waited solemnly for his judgement. He walked over to me, put his hands on my shoulders, looked into my eyes sternly and said,

“Zackary, we are Italian. If you let your friends go hungry….” (and here he decided to shake me just for a little emphasis) “I will disown you.” 

in hell we live, lament

Emet-Selch: Stop sitting on my desk. It's annoying.