SUPERFAN QUESTION FOR CHAD THE IMPALER – What’s your worst childhood memory?
I don’t know why anyone would ask this type of question because it’s only going to put me a bad mood as I’ll be discussing a moment that destroyed my will to live for a very long time. But because I have nothing to hide and I’m a champion of facing your fears, I’ll discuss this memory in hopes that it will help recruit more soldiers into our narcissist butt kicking army.
I was 8 years old during the Spring Break of 1992, the Sega Genesis was the hottest game console around, Elle Macpherson was on the minds of adolescent boys, my paper route was paying me some good money after taxes, and it was the year that my family embarked on a golf vacation to Myrtle Beach. Before the trip, my mother was acting a bit strange and told me that she couldn’t come because she had the Flu. I cried and didn’t want to go without her, but she hugged me harder than she ever had before, and told me that everything was going to be alright, even though, deep down, I knew something was very wrong.
Without my mom to protect me, going on this golf vacation was like going to war in a minefield. Every one of my steps needed to be as delicate as possible or I’d be blown into a million pieces. Golfing with my family was 18 holes of pure hell, as my shit head brothers and sister were real brown nosers. Their constant ‘look at me dad’ shout-outs were so pathetic that I wanted to kick them in the nuts and vagina so hard that they’d never be able to have babies. However, I was not in a position of strength at this point of my life and my biggest wish was that they wouldn’t talk down to everyone who worked at the golf course, as I didn’t like being guilty by association.
I thought the best way to survive this vacation was just to keep quiet and don’t start fights because if I did, the verbal abuse that I would encounter without my mother’s presence would be unrelenting and as hurtful as any punch to the face. And this strategy served me well, at least it did for the plane ride and choosing beds in the hotel room. Just so you know, I got the floor and had to call room service for extra pillows and blankets because they wouldn’t share……….And then…..we went golfing.
I wasn’t very good at golf as I really didn’t care for non-combat sports. I was more interested in the teachings of Bruce Lee at that time, so my errant shots were a constant source of my families anger and amusement. My day was mostly hearing about how badly I sucked and other terrible things…….. at least, up until the incident.
We were on the 14th hole, and I had just hit my tee shot close to the out of bounds marker off the tee. When we got out there, to my dismay, I saw that my ball actually went out of bounds. Not wanting to delay everyone and being yelled at for it, I just dropped the ball on the right side of the out of bounds marker, took a two stroke penalty, hit a pretty decent follow up shot and thought that I did what was best for the group……….And I couldn’t have been more wrong. My oldest brother, Derek, who was 12 at the time, was up next and he proceeded to chunk his ball into the no so distant water. And that’s when the shit hit the proverbial fan as I was now public enemy number one to this coven of narcissist assholes.
My eldest brother turned his ugly unsymmetric head around with pure anger in his eyes and started yelling at me for breaking the rules of golf by not re-teeing my ball. His sound logic was ‘that due to my rule breaking and the mental anguish it created,’ it then caused him to hit his golf ball fat, which then caused his ball to find the water for a two-stroke penalty. And now, because it was all my fault in his Aryan blue eyes, that I needed to apologize for causing him to hit such a poor shot that he feels he doesn’t deserve.
It felt like a bomb had just gone off in the near vicinity and my ears were ringing with confusion. I was stunned and hid a little behind one of the golf carts as the devil’s son yelled at me to apologize again. It may have been the confusion talking, but unfortunately, I didn’t listen to my own advice and meekly answered back by saying that I didn’t do anything wrong. And that’s when the rest of the coven, including my dad, ganged up on me, by telling me to just apologize so we could go about our day. My dad was super pissed because he was on pace to shoot a sub-70 round, which was a big deal to him. But for some reason, I just couldn’t let it go, and I again proclaimed that I didn’t do anything wrong.
To say that things escalated from here would be an understatement. My dad stepped into the fray with some unkind words that I don’t wish to repeat, as he took some steps toward me from his golf cart. It felt like I was being surrounded by everyone and all I wanted was my mom, but she wasn’t there to help me. I screamed out one more time ‘But I didn’t do anything wrong!’ and then I ran off the golf course towards the hotel because I needed to get away from those sociopathic narcissists for my own safety. All I wanted to do was call my mom so she could make me feel better and hopefully fly me home.
I cried and cried the whole way to the room and didn’t stop until I got inside and used that hotel chain to deadbolt the door so no one else could get in. I just prayed that they’d stay on the course to finish their rounds to give me time to get a hold of my mom, which they thankfully did because my dad wanted to finish one of his best scoring rounds ever. When my mom picked up the phone, I was scream yelling about what happened, and I was begging her to come to Myrtle Beach, or to book me a plane ticket home to her……. And that’s when my mother broke the devastating news to me that she wasn’t allowed to, due to a court-ordered ruling my dad brought against her.
I didn’t fully comprehend what she was talking about it, but I did know that I felt like I was being abandoned by the one person that was supposed to protect me. I would only understand more as I got a little older, that my mother did her best to fight for me, but my dad is such a ruthless, heartless, sociopathic narcissistic bastard, that he needed the feeling of destroying her, rather than have and her children (even if three of them were terrible people) live a happy life. In her attempt to divorce my dad, she made the mistake of having an affair with another man, and my dad used this and her recreational drinking/drug use against her. Somehow my dad’s lawyers (minions) convinced a judge that my mother was unfit for care, and he received full custody of us instead.
I was going to be told all this information when I got home with my mother and a psychologist in the room, but my phone call was not part of the plan. My mom was literally in the midst of being forced into a drug and alcohol rehabilitation center in the hopes to satisfy the court, as my small helpless hands hung up the phone as I balled my eyes out.
I was alone…… and no one could protect me now.
So that’s the worst memory of my life, and I hope you’re happy with yourself for making me relive such trauma. Fuck you guys!!!! I need to go daydream some horror movie ideas to make myself feel better now.
P.S. I know that none of this was my mom’s fault, and I love her more than anything else in the world, even though it took a lot of healing to get there. She’s on Team Chad until she dies because she’s the most awesome person that has ever lived, and I’ll kick your ass if you say otherwise.
Want to know how Chad the Impaler came to be? Click Here!
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This post was created with the help of Grammarly.