Everybody has a beginning. In my beginning, like everyone else, are my parents. A not so black man and a not so white woman. Both of my parents have Native American blood. And they are both a couple of opportunistic users. My father was a drug dealer/pimp and my mother had drug abuse issues and I'm pretty sure she was also one of his whoes. I don't know when these two people actually stopped arguing long enough to concieve me. I've never seen them be in the same room without arguing. And they were never married, so to put like my father's attorney put it when my mother tried to get child support for me, I am their "bastardly child." By the way, she never recieved child support for me.
I didn't see much of my dad when I was growing. Sometimes he was around, sometimes he wasn't. Mostly, he was in jail. Now, my father isn't a dumb man. He was the first person in his family to graduate from high school and go to college. My mother did the best she could with the skills she had. Unfortunately for me and my younger brother, she's not a very good judge of character and we had to put up with more than one perverted boyfriend of hers. But she was a hard-worker for a long time. She always managed to keep a roof over our heads, clothes on our backs and food in the kitchen. It just took her forever to give up her extra curricular activities.
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