"So life is going great", is a phrase which I refuse to utter. Not because it may not be true but rather because of stupid superstition. The minute I actually accept and admit things in life are going even mildly OK, something !@!@&^*@ up. And not just a little, always when I think that my life is finally about to turn good,  !@!@&^*@ begins.  Read on.

My regular readers will know I met a girl named Amy a few weeks ago and we kind of "hit it off" for lack of a better phrase. I thought she was pretty cool since she shared my interests and was a very independent, outspoken woman with a real mind and not those "pretenders" all of us males come across in the dating world. She walked the talk.

Anyway, I used the stupid phrase of "life is going great" in response to a question poised to me by my friend Kevin the other day when we were having a couple pints after work in my parents back yard. After which, a cold chill ran down my spine. Damn, never think that crap, and definitely never say it out loud.

The phone rang and I rushed inside while Kevin grabbed us a couple more beers. It was Dad on the phone calling from Scotland, but I could hardly hear him with all the noise going on in the background. It sounded like he was at a bar or a very noisy party.

"Hello Son", Dad slurred into the phone. He sounded like he had clearly had a couple of "beverages".

"I am just calling to let you know to pick us up at the airport this Friday when we are coming home. Your mother will call you later with the flight and time, since I forgot my glasses back at the house"

"No Problem, Dad", I am looking forward to you guys coming home", I responded.

"Er, yeah....one more thing Son, my best friend Alistair is coming to town for a couple of days visit and he and your mother do not get along too well so I told him he could stay with you. I hope that's alright", he asked.

"Sure", I responded thinking a couple of days would be no problem with having a nice old senior citizen live at my apartment.

"What's all that noise in the background, Dad. Are you at a nightclub"? I asked jokingly.

"Old Alistair and the boys are having a wee party for me. Kinda a welcome home to Aberdeen party. Just 20 or so of the lads. Anyway Son, I'll see ya Friday, he yelled and hung up the phone.

My Dad sounded like he was having a great time over there which pleased me since I know how much both him and Mom were looking forward to their trip. As I was just sitting back down in the yard, the damn phone rang again. This time it was Mom.

"Hi Mom, I just spoke to Dad. He said you would be calling here with the flight details"

"I am surprised he was sober enough to remember to call you", she replied very harshly. "The old fool has been out drinking and carousing every night with his gang ever since we arrived here in Aberdeen last week. I am just happy I have my sister Rosemary to keep me company or I would be lost and very bored. As it is I am quite enjoying the holiday"

Mom did not sound too happy overall, but I know deep down she did not mind Dad having a good time since he had not been back home in almost 50 years. Mom gave me the flight details and before she hung up I had to ask her a question that had been on my mind for the last couple of weeks.

My mother is always trying to set me up or introduce me to nice girls. She has done this for years ever since I was a teenager. Usually most of the ones she finds are daughters of her friends and "less than desirable" to put things very politely. The problem was she has never mentioned the girl I am dating now, Amy Kennedy who has lived right next door to my parents house for the past 6 months. This had got me very curious. I asked Mom about it very nonchalantly in order to not raise any suspicions which would in turn have Mom ask me 1000 questions.

"Oh, you mean Amy next door", Mom asked. "I did not tell you about her because she is a married woman. I met her husband at Xmas time, I think he should be a football player or something since he is so big a man. Around 6'5 and over 300 lbs".

With that little tidbit shared, Mom said goodbye and hung up the phone. I stood there dumbfounded for a minute trying to figure out if old Mom had misunderstood me. Could the beautiful Amy be married and forgotten to tell me? I needed to know right away.

I left Kevin in the backyard having drinks and ran next door to speak with Amy. When I confronted her with what Mom said, she looked at me sadly and nodded that it was true. She was in the process of getting a divorce, she explained.

This came as a bombshell to me since I had grown very fond of Amy in the short time we had been seeing one another. I asked her why she hadn't told me about a little thing, such as having a husband.

"I am so sorry", she cried. "I had meant to tell you but things were going so well between us I kept putting it off". "I filed for divorce from Johnny two months ago, he was still in jail then and I was sick of being a wife of someone who continually was getting in trouble with the law. He is a man with a terrible violent temper and I want nothing more to do with him"

Her justification was sound but the fact that she had lied to me about being single combined with the fact that she was still legally married meant that we could no longer date. I don't have too many rules in dating except for honesty and the person has to be single. I told this to Amy and she, being the sensible girl I knew her to be, understood my position perfectly. Maybe once she was legally single we could get past all of this but for now, I definitely wanted nothing more to do with her.

As I was leaving the still crying Amy, she passed on a further shocking bit of news to me.

"Johnny, my soon to be Ex, found out about you earlier today and said he would be paying you a visit shortly for a "talk". He was very upset. I was going to tell you all of this later on tonight but circumstance has intervened. Please be careful, I still care about you and he is very unreasonable when he is angry"

This was all !@!@&^*@ great, First I find out my girlfriend is married and now I have some 300 pound psycho monster going to beat the HELL out of me.

So much for "Life is going great".  !@!@&^*@ .

I didn't really know to be sad, mad, scared or what about all of this. I think I was feeling a little of each mixed with a lot of confusion. I took the aluminum baseball bat from my car and put it by the front door. It would be my equalizer in case old Johnny decided to pay me a visit this evening. I am nowhere near his size so this would at least possibly even things out.

Over the next couple of days absolutely nothing happened aside from my nerves being very much on edge. I was actually looking forward to moving back into my own little apartment and hopefully getting back to my regular life, whatever that was. To ease my nerves, I continued to consume Dad's premium liquor but even that seemed to upset my stomach. Nothing was going well.

I took the whole day off on Friday to first clean up the house and then go and pick up my parents at the airport. After the traditional hugs and greetings from my folks, we all got the luggage into my car and headed home.

As we were driving, Dad casually mentioned that his oldest & dearest friend Alistair and son Freddie, would be arriving in town on Saturday and he would be bringing them over to my apartment around 5 in the afternoon.

"You never mentioned Freddie on the phone Dad", I responded. "I don't have a lot of room at my place you know"

"I think I did, Son", he responded. "But not to worry, it's only for a couple weeks..you'll get along just fine"

"WEEKS", I yelled, trying to make sure I didn't drive the car into the ditch. "You said a couple DAYS on the phone, not weeks"

"Well I had a couple pints before I called you. It doesn't matter, I meant weeks. Nobody in their right mind would come over to Canada all the way from Scotland for a nice holiday and only stay a couple of days. That's just crazy talk. Use your head, boy"

I was furious but before I could respond, Mom interjected by saying "Better your place than ours, Son" I won't have these hooligans and roughnecks in my home. Organized crime is all what they are. A nasty lot from day one, I am shocked your father still gives them the time of day after all these years."

Dad clarified by telling me that in his youth Alistair had been a bit of a Hell Raiser and had fallen on the wrong side of the law on a couple of occasions. He did however straighten up and has run the largest security and bodyguard business in Northern Scotland for over 20 years. He is now retired and his eldest boy, Lonnie runs the business. Freddie is his youngest son.

Mom just grunted at Dad's remarks and muttered that she would wager that wherever Alistair Macleod is involved that his group had been causing more crimes than it was preventing.

I dropped off my parents and waited for Mom and Dad to inspect their house for any noticeable damage before I departed. They both looked suspiciously around the house expecting there to be some evidence of foul play, but could not find anything until Dad noticed that a great deal of his alcohol was missing from his liquor cabinet.

"Son", he asked calmly, "Did you help yourself to all of my cherished premium liquor without asking me first"?

Knowing how volatile old Dad can be when it comes to matters like this, I carefully worded my response. "Well Dad, I had almost all of it but I intend to replace every single bottle with a new one tomorrow".

Dad had a huge grin on his face and responded, "Not to worry, Son. In fact if you want to take all of the rest of these bottles home you are more than welcome. Help yourself"

This was not the normal nor expected reaction that I was accustomed to from my father. As my suspicions grew, he finally burst out laughing "Son, you are definitely a creature of habit and very predictable"

He continued "I knew you would try & drink all of my booze while I was away, so the war was on. Your thirsty guts against my clever mind. You did not stand a chance." "As in any war I knew there would be some casualties which was acceptable to me, so before we left town I hid all of my best booze under our bed and refilled all my empty bottles with cheap stuff and added a healthy dose of castor oil to each bottle just to teach you a lesson. I hope your many trips to the bathroom over the past few weeks will remind you not to swipe your old man's liquor in the future"

He was laughing so hard he began to cry. Mom stood there smiling and shaking her head and silently said "Obviously your father has had way too much time on his hands, as you can see"

This would explain my many stomach aches over the past few weeks. Is nothing what it is meant to be or is my old dad just going senile was my initial reation. Although I was the victim in Dad's somewhat insane war, I too found it to be funny, brilliant actually. From now on I would definitely not touch his liquor. Lesson learned.

We spoke a few minutes more and as I was leaving, Mom asked me an odd question. "You look rather distracted & stressed Son, is everything ok"?

"Of course", I lied, "Everything is fine". Mom did always know when something was wrong or was bothering me.

I grabbed my aluminum bat and then headed out the front door and to my apartment. Little did I know what fate had in store for me over the next few days.

----- end of part one -----