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You will NEVER hear me whine when someone says "I don't believe you" because I don't tell tales to be believed, I tell truths, and it's of little consequence to ME if you choose to believe them or not. No lie can change it, it's immune to cynicism, and it certainly doesn't give much of a shit what anyone thinks of it.It is what it is.With that being said, let me begin the first truth:I am David.(the truth begins like all truths,...simple enough)Born in 1969, in the Denver General Hospital to Gary, and Mary at Nine Thirty three PM on November 23rd.When mom's water broke, and the contractions had begun Dad was already tipsy.Mom says dad had to stop on the way for cigs, and got so caught up in telling the cashier about my arrival that it took twenty minutes to get a damned smoke. In her impatience to get to the hospital, and Dad's inability to shut the fuck up in a crisis she got out to fetch the man.My head slid right out between her legs at the register.Fluids pooled, dad panicked,. The trip down was stress-free as Nicola's strength was her planning, everything packed and planned. She drove the long journey to Scotland along the route she picked and with her pre-planned rest breaks. When they arrived, it actually looked better than Peter expected; the caravans weren't the tiny boxes he worried about.As they found their caravan they climbed the steps of the veranda and Nicole waved back to a large ginger-bearded man who sat outside his.After an early night, Peter woke up to laughter from outside and recognized one voice as Nicola. Peeping through the curtain, he saw Nicola with the large bearded man and a younger lad around nineteen. She returned smiling and reported that the man and his nephew had invited them for drinks later, which she'd accepted. Peter peered out again as the man patted the boy's backside; that was never his nephew."Jack and Kevin are their names, Jack's the man and Kevin's his nephew," she explained. Peter pondered was she really this naive.
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