Saturday Skinny Stoner Saga – the story of G

Because one person asked me to do it By popular demand, here’s another installment in the Saga of G, my oldest sister’s second husband.

Previously we learned that G revealed his interest in wearing his mothers clothing to my sister, S, about a week after they were married.  Rather than face another failed marriage, S, decided to stick it out.  Intrepid readers asked “if that didn’t get her out of the marriage, then what finally did?”

We’re not sure what really drove her to file the paperwork.  It was at least partially due the advice of her baby sister, who pointed out that if he got arrested for dealing weed out of the house, the local authorities could confiscate everything she owned – you know, one of those “it’s not violating the constitution  if we take away the rights of bad people” laws…

After the divorce, G went downhill quickly.  We learned that he was arrested for stealing angel figurines from graveyards.   Things escalated, and later that year learned that he was a fugitive from the law! [dramatic music goes here] Attempted Bank Robbery!

G had pulled up to the drive-through window at a bank, and tried to withdraw funds from his checking account.  He was in a van, with an inflatable doll on the front seat.   Strapped in with a seatbelt.   Safety first, i suppose… if his date suffered an inadvertent puncture wound it could have been a safety hazard with her flying wildly through his field of view!

When the cashier said there was no money in his account, he held up a squirt gun and said “well, how about giving me some money anyway”…. and then sat there and chatted politely with her until the police arrived. 

Months later, when it was time for his court date, he failed to show.  We were stunned, shocked and totally amazed at this behavior, of course, as he’d demonstrated such a fine grasp of reality up to this point!

He was believed to be living in a rural area with a friend.  The next breaking news story? He wandered off – “went missing”, as they say around these parts.   What struck me as odd about this?  [OK, there was a lot that struck me as odd about this…].  In the local newspapers, on the evening news, there was much fanfare about the “search for the missing fugitive”.  If the fucking cops couldn’t find him when he WASN’T missing, so why did they think they’d have better luck AFTER he went missing?

But i digress…

It was quite the circus, with homicide detectives quizzing his roommate, tons of press coverage – my sister, S, her daughter, DQ and the rest of the park were giddy from the drama!  G’s van was found in the woods, his wallet on the seat.  The only things missing?  [more ominious music here]  His shotgun and his dog…

As if the cross-dressing, bank-robbing, inflate-a-date toting wasn’t enough, the plot thickened…

About a month after the disappearance, the roommate found a tennis shoe while looking for clues in the woods… it had fallen from above, from G’s dead foot, which was still attached to the rest of him, which was also dead.  His body was in a deer stand. (similar to this kind)  G had not only shot himself, but shot his poor dog, too. 

Now, picture this scrawny biker dude, climbing the ladder to a deer stand in a tree, carrying a shotgun and a dog.   And no, unfortunately, he was not wearing his mothers silky undergarments at the time.

As always, though, there is a darker side.   The genuinely sad post-script?  He left a suicide note – addressed it to his 30 year old daughter (a sweet kid who got out of that shit-hole environment).  It basically said “happy fathers day, hope you’re fucking happy now…”.  Bastard.

It’s all a mystery to me, man…. From the “making the best of a bad situation” file?  My two children aren’t phased by much of anything.  They’ve pretty much seen it all… and have learned to laugh through it.