There was once a very old man, who had a hammer nose. The old man had spent his last fifty-something years of heavy drinking along with his drunken friends. For the last five years he hadn’t had a drink. Not even a drop of any liquor. But why not?
Five years ago the old man’s daughter was carrying her first child in her stomach. The old man’s first grandchild. His daughter had not seen him in quite some time, after her mother had passed several years ago from a kidney disease. When the old man’s daughter came back to town she visited her father before doing anything else. Well except for visiting the church that was up the road on her way over. It took three knocks for her father to come to the door. And as soon as the old man had opened the door his daughter’s eyes flew right past him towards the kaleidoscope of different shapes and colors behind him. From the funnel-shaped snapshot that she took from where she stood, she could tell that the old man’s home was teeming with empty liquor bottles. At first she had second thoughts about entering her father’s home, the same place where she had grown up before she left to France at the age of fifteen. But she had prayed that he would have given up his life of drinking right at the church up the road before arriving.
His daughters name was Teresa. She wasn’t able to make it back when her mother had passed away. For years her father’s drinking habits terrorized their family when she was younger. Her little brother was trampled by a runaway horse in the market when she was five. After that incident, Teresa had no one to escape with when her father would beat their mother during the episodes of his drunken stupor. After that traumatic event her mother suffered with a mental illness, reliving the tragedy over and over, deteriorating her mind.
Now, being back in her old surroundings had brought her many memories of her mother and childhood. She had come to see the old man today from over two-hundred miles away. The reason? To give the old man an ultimatum. He was a drunken old man with nothing but his bottles. His friends were long gone now. It didn’t seem that there was any hope for him with any sort of women, besides the filthy village prostitute whores that is. His nose had looked like a cauliflower. He welcomed her in with a hand gesture. He couldn’t even speak any words or even say “hello”. The old man could see that she was pregnant and gave a gigantic smile. He then walked towards her and put his arms around her. She could smell the alcohol escaping his pores. The scent was everywhere. Both the sight and smell of the place would had turned around any other person. But she had to ask her father something.
“Pa, I’m having a baby boy. Your grandchild.”...