A Good Life: The Joe Grushecky Story Page #3

I'm the wrong person?

I'm not Tad Tokas?

Is that what you're saying?

No, I-

I didn't start defensive tackle,

and I don't know who I am?

I don't know me?

I don't know who I am?

Are you calling me a liar,

telling me I'm not

who I say I am?

I'm more than you will ever be,

little f*ggot.

Yeah, get up.

Go ahead and get up, p*ssy.

What the f*** is that?

It's a present.

Now it's the past.

How come everywhere I see

a great big motherfucking p*ssy?

Did you see that?

One punch.

The little baby b*tch

only took one f***ing punch.

I had a bloody nose once in the hospital.

Six guys had to pin me down

to give me my meds.

One of them had his knees

on both my arms

and his balls right in my face,

so I bit him.

He punched me.

I almost had to have plastic surgery.

I used to sing in a theater like this.

Children's theater

when I was seven.

One of those childhood stars.

Sold out every show.

But you've heard of the show,

haven't you?

I don't know

who you think I am,

but I don't think I'm him.

I don't know you.

Yes, you do.

You just don't know

you know me.

I don't think

you want to know me.

I already do.

You're hard on yourself,

'cause a lot of people

depend on you.

And you're afraid

to of letting them down.

You've got a great deal

of unused potential.

Something bad

has happened to you recently,

besides that.

Some of your aspirations

are pretty unrealistic,

considering the fact

that you live in Nebraska.

You care a great deal

about a select group of people.

And you love this theater.

You can tell that

by looking at my palm?

I can tell that

by looking at your face.

What's in the box?

I don't know.

It's a gift.

For who?

For me.

From who?

My dad.

Why don't you open it?

When my sister was two,

she almost died.

My mom found out

she was allergic to peanut oil.

And when she turned 12,

my dad wrapped

her birthday present in a small box

a lot like this one.

And then he wrapped that box

in another box

and that box in another box

and so on.

And after she opened box

after box after box

and finally got down

to her gift,

she started screaming.

Why?

Because my dad's gift to her

was a jar of Peter Pan peanut butter.

He thought it was funny.

He must be a hard man to live with.

He's not living anymore.

I found it today when I was

cleaning out his apartment.

When you said something bad

happened to me recently,

I guess you were talking about that.

You can just drop me off up here.

Don't you want me

to drop you off at your house?

No.

Okay.

My dad used to tell me

that the people I meet

will never care more

about who I am

than they will

about what I look like.

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