Highway to...

So, I drove down to Hades to draw Persephone... no... wrong mythos. Aw, heck.

Went to the darkest pit today to pluck the poor soul that is my oldest from the fiery domain of Satan.

Yeah. I looked at Satan and thought, "you know, she does sort of complement me in that "mirror darkly" sort of way."

For instance, I'm sane, and she's psychotic.

Let us consider the whole sexual molestation thing that we hear about from time to time.

Nick, the boy who poked and proded my oldest in all manner of unseemly ways, wrote out his confession of all that. Most of which I didn't know about until reading it to find out whether or not the oldest should read it. I went ahead and figured that he needed to know the depth of betrayal he'd suffered. Surely, if he knew what was going on, since he had the decision of whether to see Nick again ever, he would never see the demon-spawn again.

Seriously. I can't tell you how utterly pissed off I was reading it. It was like someone had taken pictures of my non-existant daughter and photoshopped her having sex with farm animals. And posted them on the internet and every tree within 40 miles. And then suing me for getting a papercut in the process. Including the lawyer fees.

Only that would have to all happen within an hour.

Old wounds opened up, new ones were cut, and there were liberal splashes of lemon juice and sprinklings of salt.

I get to see her today, and one of the first things I notice is that she's bounced back to her usual pear-shaped appearance. She does look less harsh that way, until she moves or talks or pretty much does anything. Then it's like looking at sewage that has somehow donned human skin. Without the potential fluidity thatBut sewage has.

We part ways after I grab the belongings of the oldest, and we (the oldest and I) head down the road. Various "what've you been doing this summer"s later I bring up the message that I've been holding on to so's he can read it. I'm figuring he will read it, figure out how deep this stuff was, vomit, and swear never to see this clown again.

But Satan wants them to be a family.

"Oh, I've heard it."
Bloody hell.
"and the interview was conducted."
Lalalalalalalalala
"and now Nick can come over whenever he wants!"
God %^&$ Jes-uit cracker bas-kets.
(for the record, that's actually what I thought)

I made it clear that Ultraboy can still turn back from ever seeing someone who was that treasonous to him. There was no reason to treat him better than a "friend" who was trying to sell him drugs, or get him to steal, or any other number of wrong things.

"But he's family."

I cannot tell you how this one twists me. I have a strong sense of responsibility and duty to my family. My family is everything to me. My wife, not initially bound to me by blood (now, since we have kids and all, it's a bit different) is a deeply important part of my family. Priorities: Kids, wife, self, brothers, parents. Some of those people I consider family are not bound to me by blood. Some people bound to me by blood have betrayed their duties as family and have passed beyond.

And then there's this weasel who has bassed beyond and never friggin' was family by blood. If I still lived in the southland I know some people who would make all of these problems disappear. Unfortunately those people are about as intolerant as you get, so I don't associate with them anymore. And they're down in Dixie, where I don't live.

Where was I? Oh, yes... Australia.

I have every parent-sense blaring that, if ever there was cause and need to remove someone from my boy's life, this was it.

I was in a moving car. It was raining and dark. And my mind was totally not on driving.

I made it home safe, with the oldest, but there were some decidedly close calls.

I was not told that my son was in danger.
I was not informed that a villain was now loose to prey upon his victim.
No one thought to enlighten me as to the interview, or permit me to express my views about this situation to my son.

And he just rolled with it, like he does.

I remember being young, unathletic, and doing pretty much what anyone wanted me to. I couldn't see anyone as being mean on purpose. Even into H.S. I thought everyone was basically good.

Heck, that really hasn't changed at all. But I see big glaring "Don't Go This Way" signs with red 'X's over the path he is unnecessarily tredding. I told him so, but he doesn't care. He's doing what Satan wants, and Satan talks louder than I do. And is there when Nick is.

Oh, and the supervision for Nick's visits? Provided by Satan and Nick's father.

The ones that permitted it to happen in the first place.

Idiots.