In the summer of 1997 my dad made a harmless joke to one of his employees at Red Lobster. The waitress had a boyfriend that wasn't to sucessful and her parents took him in and helped him greatly with money, put him back in college, and pretty much straightened his life up. The joke my father made, and he made several jokes to everyone all the time, was that maybe he'd dump our mom and move in with this girls parents.
Well she told her boyfriend and he didn't think it was to funny. He convinced her that if she told my dad's boss about the joke, she could sue my dad and (In an idiots voice) "get lot's of money." So she told, and the assistant manager helped fuck our dad even more, you see she wanted my dad's job bad, by telling the bosses that my dad always made "sexual" jokes.
While the shit's were planing this my family was on our last real vacation. We were in Cocoa Beach having a great time, besides when my parents weren't mad at each other. From time to time I even dream about Cocoa Beach, and my dad back with us and us all being happy again. We came back a day early because of my guitar lessons, which were cancelled and I had told my parents but they still yelled like crazy anyways, and I believe that was the second time my dad ever really hit me.
So the day after we got back my dad goes to work like usual. It was summer so me and my brothers woke up around noon. I remember sitting on the couch of our living room in my pajamas watching some daytime game show, and Dad comes through the door. Then Mom comes from the other direction and says, "Ron, why are you home." They go into the kitchen and me and Scott know somethings up but stay where we are. Well my mom starts crying and everything goes down a landslide after that.
My dad went to a meeting with his bosses and instead of telling them it was a misunderstanding he decides to say fuck it and tells them that "I'll make it easy for you fellas, I quit."
All his employees were calling all the time afterwards and wondering what he was going to do next. Well he hadn't planned that so he had to go out and find a job. He applied at a bunch of places. Places in our city in Florida, in Orlando, California (I wish he had choose there), all over the place, but not South Carolina. So how did well get here?
My dad was hired by Applebees in our city, which was great, we wouldn't move.
He worked there for about three months and then they told us we had to move to S.C. Nine and a half years in our house. That was where I grew up. Most my memories come from living there. The forts we built, the nights we spent trying not to fall asleep, the ghost stories we told, the games we created and played day in day out. Those nine years were the best years I'll ever live. We had to move.
We put our house on the market and began having people wonder through our house. They saw my room, the place I bathed in, were I made my peanut butter sandwichs. These aliens set foot in my home asking themselves "Should we live here?"
And someone answered "Yes". It was a mother and father with one boy. They were youth ministers and fuckers. Our saler was friends with them so she told them that we would sell to them for less (god damn bitch, who the fuck did she think she was to steal our money.) But we agreed.
Our long time friend's home was bought by the city so that a new road could be layed down and we wanted to sell them our house. That way when we visit Florida we could go see our house. So we told the sales representative that we wanted to sell to our friends instead.
There is a period after you sign the sales papers called the "grace" period. What this is, is a period where you can tell the buyer you don't want to sell to them, like if you decide not to move. Well the sales women told us that "Our office doesn't do that." We believed her (my parents are dumb.) We called the office and asked and it turned out that she lied. So we said "don't sell" and they said "to late" and we said "fuck!"
We were pretty pissed at the lady and she told the people that "let them have the house but make them pay you for selling it to someone else." So the people started a case to sue us. There reason was, "Our son was so heart broken when we told him that you new home is being taking away and we want some compensation."
I hope the fuckers die because we were having the home we lived in for nine and a half years taking away from us, and they wanted to sue us! We payed them something like a thousand dollars instead of going to court and driving back down from S.C. Our friends got the house though.
The day we moved it rained and it was cold. It was in December right at Christmas vaction. The movers finished packing in the morning and headed out for the 12 hour trip as did we. My dad drove what has gone through me and is now Scott's car with Brett and me, Scott, and Mom went in the van. In the van we cried as we left home. Even our pets cried.
An hour into the trip my dad's car caught on fire. So we called a tow truck and waited. An hour later we were back at in Cape Coral at our trusty garage. An hour after that we had a new van rented. We ate some food and Mom had a hunch that the oven was left on. So we went and checked. Other things happened and finally we got back on the road around 4 in the afternoon.
We drove all night untill my parents were to tired to drive anymore. That was around 4 in the morning and we had to be there when the movers started to unpack. So we slept in the car. I didn't sleep at all and my feet were frozen by dawn.
When 6 came around we got back on the road for an hour trip. We called the movers and told them we'd be there soon and they said that it was fine, the owner had come and opened the home for them.
Driving down the interstate I could see all the stores and that was new because in Florida the interstate wasn't even close to the city. It was the coldest I had ever been and everything was brown from winter. I remember all my friends saying that when we got her everyone was going to be rednecks (which isn't true come to find out.)
As we came to the enterance to Whitehall we watched as a Bronco fly through a red light with two cops chasing him. They drove into the neighborhood and me and Scott said, "Great place you guys picked." It was just a joke then. We drove further into the hood and saw that we were following the chase.
Now the really great part, we pulled up to our house and saw three cops pulled into the lawn of our new happy home. All the neighbors were standing outside watching in amazment at the rarety of events.
What had happened was the owner thought for some reason that our movers were going to move all the stuff from the garage to her house. They told her they could move it out of the garage but they couldn't take it to her house. Weeeell, that wasn't the answer she wanted. So she cussed and fussed and then pulled out a shotgun. Our movers freaked out of course and ran and called the cops. She called her husband and told him that the movers had pulled a gun on her, so he got in his car and flew home and picked up some cops for the trip by running several stop lights. When he got there he pulled out a shotgun of his own from his car. And we watched with mouths dropped.
After the commotion was over with no tickets or arrests, which I really don't understand that, me and my bros began to adjust to our new playground. The first thing I remember doing was getting out this old Kool-Aid skateboard and riding on my back down this big hill. We spent hours in the next year doing this.
And that's how the Biddles invaded the S.C.
