“Are you threatening me?”

“What does it sound like, motherfucker?”

“If he disobeys me, if he disrespects me, I will discipline him the way I see fit and considering the fact that we can count on one hand how much you’ve contributed to his well-being in the past four years, I don’t think you have much say-so here. Now would you kindly leave this house?”

Before I even know what I’m doing I haul off and sucker-punch this blond motherfucker so hard he falls past the dining-room table and into the kitchen, and I hear Jamil yelling: “Kick his ass, Dad!” and I’m assuming he means me, and then I hear Donnetta scream, “I’m calling the police!” and when I look up Todd is coming at me with a sponge mop and I snatch it out of his hand like I ain’t got arthritis and start whopping him all over his body with it until the wooden part cracks in two and my hand is bleeding and everybody’s screaming and yelling and all I can think is that I bet he won’t hit my goddamn son no more.

When the police get here, they handcuff me, put me in the back of their car, and take me to jail. I don’t really give a fuck. I made my point. Donnetta ran and got her little half-white baby she kept hidden from me the whole time and just stood there with it in her arms, shaking her head. Todd was still on the floor, acting like he was half dead. I didn’t hurt that motherfucker, not with that skinny-ass handle, but he still pretended like he couldn’t get up when the cops pushed me out the doorway.

The police said my bail is probably going to be in the neighborhood of $50,000. Damn. I can’t call nobody and ask for any five grand to get me out. Just what I need: another fucking court date. Paris is already pissed at me for what happened in Las Vegas, so I can’t even think about calling her. And Janelle’s money ain’t hers, so I can forget about her trying to explain to George why she would need this kinda cash. And then there’s Charlotte, who I know would probably cuss me out when she heard the word “jail” and then hang up in my face. So fuck it. I’ll just have to wait it out. Why’d this have to be a Saturday? Which means I won’t even get arraigned until Wednesday.

One officer tells me that I’m being charged with assault and battery, and disturbing the fucking peace. That Todd is definitely pressing charges. I have never been convicted of a violent crime, and I ain’t exactly sure what this means, but when we get to the jail, I ask if I can smoke a cigarette before I go in and how much time am I looking at? They both kinda chuckle, and then one of ’em says that I won’t be walking on no streets in street shoes for at least the next twelve months, and for me to puff on that.