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My dad once left me a really mean message on my answering machine when I was twelve years old. Or was I eleven? It doesn't matter. It didn't affect me one single bit!
Here is the transcript:
I hit my head trying to get to a phone. You have made me smash my head for the last time. You got a call coming in. You think I made it because I've got nothing better to do? I could be shouting expletives at random people on the street, but I'm shouting them at you. I don't care that you're twelve or eleven or whatever, are you brain enough to pick it up? I'm a good father, and you're a...a...a…a Brian Smasher. I don't give a s*&%. You think this is abuse? You think this is abuse, you thoughtless pain in the brain? Get mad you son-of-a-*****. Get mad. You know what it takes to answer my call? It takes brass balls to answer my call. Oh, by the way, this is Dad, ring me back when you get a chance.
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