Christmas wasn’t much fun in our house. It’s probably what goes on in many homes, but Dad is usually a complete asshole and ruins the day, even before he starts drinking. This year, as usual, he brought some guy home from the bar the night before—while Mom was at church. The guy slept on the couch and frankly, he stunk. My brother’s toys never got put together—or they hadn’t until I sat down and started in on them, with Dad and his pal drinking beer and watching some old John Wayne movie on TV. They were both passed out by the time I was done, and I had to take the lit cigarettes out of their hands and stub them out, so the house wouldn’t burn down.