Daisy Diary

How It All Started

It all started when my seventy year old grandfather died of a heart attack after winning the lottery. The old hag was jumping and screaming, apparently he forgot about his weak lungs, and there he went. Right there on our living room floor, me and my brothers dirty gym shoes to his left, the old and practically broken television in front of his lifeless body and my dogs shit to his right. I guess Bigfoot, my Golden Retriever,  was excited about becoming rich too.

Yes, I know I must sound pretty callous to speak of my grandfather this way but trust me when I say he deserves (*deserved) it. He came to live with us after badgering his wife of fifty-eight  years out of his life, and no I don't mean she died, she packed her bags and left him and didn't think twice about it.

I always admired her, even when she was too weak to walk up the stairs by herself she still knew what she wanted wasn't afraid to go get it. And I guess she just didn't want him anymore (grandpa wouldn't tell me much about the break up, he kept saying it was "grown people conversation." I don't know when old people started calling themselves grown but to me he was more like a baby than an adult. He could barely make it to the bathroom before he sharted in his old people diaper). Hell, I didn't want him either.

He was never much of a grandfather, more of the guy that only called when he wanted something. And he only visited when he had nowhere else to go.

Anyway, enough about him, he needs to rest in peace. After he was gone the money from the lottery went to my mother. And then that money was spent an a new car and a new house in Beverly Hills. Then the money was spent on my moms breast and not to long after that it was spent on my new pool boy. And that pool boy is now my step dad.

These days I'm happy we moved because if we hadn't I would have never climbed through the junk in our garage and found this. My leather backed diary that an old friend in my summer camp gave me 8 years ago. He was a real champ, the kind of boy little girls have their first kiss with. Instead I had my first broken leg with him. But that's a story for another time. He gave me this diary when we said our goodbye's to each other and sometime between then and now I put the diary in a little pink box titled "Love."