Happy Father Fucker’s Day

I enjoy any holiday–no matter how irrelevant to our friendship–as an excuse to present My Beloved Dragon Guardian (Larkin), with a gift. Seeing as he is obviously the “Daddy” type, I find Father’s Day a most appropriate time to celebrate his presence in my life…though I am 12 years his senior. Has nothing to do with the defunct theory that a boy turns gay due to lack of fatherly attention. He is very tall (6-foot-4), handsome, masculine, and always wants to run the show no matter the situation.

It took me some time to come up with the right gift, but I have recently been reintroduced to that great comedy troupe, The Firesign Theatre. Their inspiration is based on the radio media of the 30’s and 40’s, though they take it to surrealistic heights. Their star rose rapidly in the 60’s and 70’s, though they are still going strong (God bless ’em). So I ordered one of their CD’s from Amazon, entitled “I Think We’re All Bozos on this Bus.”

The CD arrived just five days before the holiday, so I had to do some quick thinking on how to create the total package. So I ambled on down to Walgreens and selected a diminutive pink gift bag, along with a small greeting card (which was blank inside, and displayed a picture on the front of a juicy hamburger with caption “Nice buns!”). Inside I wrote the following words:

“Wishing you the loveliest Father’s Day ever.” And signed it: “Your psycho ex-boyfriend, Zeke.”

I embellished the gift bag with a Scooby-Doo sticker, and did something similar to the front of the card’s envelope. Then I printed out the first two pages of Wikipedia’s article on The Firesign Theatre, and folded it to quarter size, just in case he isn’t familiar with this group.

Don’t know if Firesign Theatre is his cup of tea; nonetheless I think it’s a very nice gift to present to someone I love, who means the universe to me. Then I opened the gift bag and plunked the CD, greeting card and printout into it. The love token was now complete and ready to hand deliver to Larkin at Twin Peaks Tavern, or perhaps elsewhere. But if worse leads to worst, and Father’s Day comes and goes without me seeing him, I’ll simply mail it belatedly.

The statement “Happy Father Fucker’s Day” is in reference to a joke he cracked about two years ago, when I came up to him as he departed Twin Peaks Tavern, and declared:

“You’re the handsomest mother fucker on the planet!”

To which he replied: “I’m not a mother fucker, I’m a father fucker!”

The image with caption I printed out and taped to the gift bag is probably too small for you to clearly discern, so right below is a larger version. I think it’s quite funny, and you probably will too.


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