To support a wife and six kids, my Uncle Rex, who’d once harbored literary ambitions, wrote dozens of crappy paperback novels under various pseudonyms, with titles like Deathcar or The Terror Hunters or Backdoor Action!, novels you could find for sale sometimes at major department stores. He also sexually abused his youngest child, my mom Brandy, starting on her eighth birthday and ending five years later when he died from a heart attack, sitting at his typewriter, having just written the opening line to his latest book: “Brandi liked her whiskey straight.” No, his opening and closing line. A nice literary touch here.
Copyright © 2021 by David V. Matthews
DAVID V. MATTHEWS 