"I'm the Official Sentry of the Island of Misfit Toys..."

Michael Mcbride was a scumbag from the day he was born. He was ugly and ridiculously stupid. His mother was a whore and a drunk, his sisters were no better. Now in their 60's, I imagine Bev and Barb feel bad about leaving me alone with their pervert brother, but it's too late now isn't it.

The twins were supposed to be babysitting me. But they always went upstairs to smoke weed and listen to records while Michael "watched" me. I was 4 years old. I remember he took out his penis in front of his friend, an even uglier motherfucker with crazy teeth pointing in all directions like a confused compass. Ugly's name was Red, due to his long, bright red hair. Red said, "Dude, that's gross..." I remember Michaal saying, "Don't worry dude, she does it all the time..."

All the time. Thank god I remember only once.

Fast forward 30 years, I was working at the porno store on a snowy Christmas eve. I have often thought the only reason I've understood the store, the way it functions and it's dysfunction, is BECAUSE I was molested. Normal people can't cut it there. You have to be broken to know how it works, so that you can work with broken parts of people... All I have ever tried to do is see where their holes were, same as mine usually, and try to fill them up best I could with love and care and sometimes, discipline.

But on that cold Christmas eve, an old man came in to the store. Now, coincidentally, my mother used to work at that same store, back when it was a restaurant called The Crab Bowl. When I was a little girl, I used to sit in the corner of that restaurant with a drunk man, my mom's friend, who I named "Woofie." His real name was Don. We'd color, he'd howl, eat poached eggs and toast with me while my mother was working. I drank hot chocolate, he'd drink whatever was put in front of him.

Don recognized me because I look so much like my mother. "You Suzy's daughter?" I am, indeed. We were both astonished. He remembered me as a child, I remembered him, looking the same.

Woofie came in that Christmas eve to give me some "terrible" news, he said. "So sad," he said. "Marianne's son was killed tonight in a car accident."

I paused. "WHAT? Which son?" She'd had another son, a bastard from a married man who was never told who his father was. Every one knew, including me, but him.

Woofie said, "Well David died a long time ago, also in an accident. But tonight, Mike Mcbride died. Isn't that awful? Marianne lost both her sons."

I laughed. Damn right she did. I'm in this porno store because of what that stupid fuck did to me, for what it's worth, good and bad, I can't even get out of it or away from it. She lost both her sons. She didn't deserve either of them to begin with.

And as Woofie went on to tell me about the details of Michael's "tragic" death, I listened passively while watching the snow softly fall through the windows of the porno store. Sitting at my counter. Right where I believe, I was meant to be.

For good or bad.