Wish You Were Here

Pink drank himself away in Isabellas. Lucas Shaffer welcomed himself into the seat next to him.

“Why are you doing this to yourself, man?” Lucas questioned.
“My dad just disappeared in thin air.” replied Pink in a drunken stutter.
“Your dad? You never had a father Pink. It has been you and your mom on this whole trip we call life.”
“Do you remember the days in the orphanage school. Do you remember a certain teacher, Father Floyd?”
“No, man. I think you have been drinking too much. We had a Father Frank as a teacher. I thought for sure you would remember him. That abstinent fucker gave you hell. Whenever you wrote a poem, he would pick it up and tell you poems were for the birds.”
“Lucas, what the fuck are you talking about? We had a teacher named Father Floyd. That teacher was my father. I saw him just a minute ago, and then, poof, he was gone.”
“Pink, Pull yourself together. There has never been a Father Floyd. Maybe your Dad is still alive, or maybe his spirit is haunting you, but seriously man. Your perception of reality is unclear. It just doesn’t make sense.
Pink waved for another drink. The bartender had cut him off. Pink stood up to leave out of the bar. he could barely walk in a straight line.
“Where do you think you are going man.”
“To see my father, he is here, and always has been.”
“I’ll come check up on you in a couple of days Pink.”
“Until you believe me Lucas, you can fuck off.”
Pink slammed the door to Isabellas. Lucas sat there, left to question Pinks destructive mental state.

Three hours late Pink woke up with what could be described as the usual hangover. However, there was something brewing inside of him. It was anger. An anger he hadn’t felt since the band broke up. An anger that started this downward slope he calls his life. Pink picked himself up off the floor, found his balance, and tried to make it to the bathroom. The repercussions of the hangover found the toilet. After he stood up, he looked in the mirror. Pink was stunned when he heard the troubling voice,
“Why are you doing this to yourself, Son?”
Pink startled jumped back. “What the fuck are you doing here? Do you even exist?”
“As long as you live, I live as well.”
“What the fuck does that even mean?”
“It means that I am as real as you make me to be.”
“Then why don’t you go the fuck away.”
“Because my job isn’t done, and you know it.”
“What job? The only job you have is pestering the shit out of my mind?”
“Like I said before, you are only doing it to yourself.”
“So what's next?”
“What’s next is the drinking. If you ever want to restore order into your life, you have to quit those obstacles which hold you back. To begin with is the drinking, plain and simple, you need to stop. As soon as you truly believe you could accomplish that, you may find your son. He is the key to your success. As soon as you repair yourself as the father you should have been, then the gate of this hellish life is forever closed.”
“And if I don’t do any of this bullshit...”
“Then you will never die. I’ll never go away, and you will bring this world down with you.”
“Son, I believe in you.”
Pink found an empty fifth and hurled it at his father. With a loud crash, it hit the amp in the hallway. It went straight through the image of his father.
“Pink, do you believe in the supernatural? I am, as you say, a ghost. But not this bullshit ghost publicized. I am the memory of my physical life. As long as you live, so will I.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Son, would you want your son to forever be haunted by the fact that you willingly gave him up? Do you want him to know that you are a washed up drunk, who quite frankly, should kill himself and do the world a favor? Do you want him to think that?”
“Of course not, why would any father want that?”
“Why do you think I am here Pink? It isn’t for the best Dad of the year award.?”
And with that final statement, he was gone. Pink sat there in the bathroom, in awe. A tear rolled down his face.

Pink, now knowing the truth, grabbed the only knife he had in the kitchen. He slit his wrist, but no blood came out. There was no pain. He really couldn’t die.