Forgiveness is not a word that was in his vocabulary.

At least, I had never seen him show any. Even now, as he sat looking at the empty mayonnaise jar across the table from him I knew what was coming. I was used to it. First would be the customary list of expletives that would stream from his mouth. These were getting fresher as the days went on. Next, the said jar would be sent flying across the room, perhaps against a wall, maybe even at me if I was unlucky enough. Either way, it would end up shattering and I would be expected to pick up the pieces after being told I was useless,...