Giggle Juice

Part 1

The book cover was made by the lovely @nvptxne. Check out her page.

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Disclaimer: I do not own Guns N' Roses. Although this story is inspired by Duff McKagan's real life, it is fictional.

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Seattle, Washington, 1970

Michael Andrew McKagan, most commonly referred to as Duff, was a boy of six years old when his parents divorced. Having been married for well over a decade and siring a whopping eight children, they finally decided they had had enough of each other. Duff was too young to fully understand what it meant, but he was deeply aware that his relationship with his father would never be the same.

Elmer was a drinker. Some of Duff's fondest childhood memories were of sitting on his father's lap, watching him sip on a whiskey or a beer while he watched the evening news. There were bad memories too. 

The day before he and his siblings were informed of their parents' impending separation, Duff got up at 7:15, walked downstairs in his pajamas, and sat at the breakfast table eating a bowl of cereal. It was Saturday morning and cartoons were on, but his mother Marie wouldn't let any of her children eat in front of the television. He finished his bowl in haste, milk dribbling down his chin, and plopped down on the floor in front of the TV to watch The Road Runner Show. 

He was giggling at a silly scene when Elmer walked out the door in his work uniform, not stopping to give his wife a kiss. Duff could sense tension in the house, but he mostly ignored it. After all, nothing bad could ever possibly happen, right? He concentrated on the colored animations flashing across the screen. Like most young children, he tried to push away uncomfortable thoughts. Maybe he shouldn't have, just for that day. Maybe it would've made the next day easier. Maybe.

A few of his older siblings joined him. They sat huddled in blankets, one on the floor next to Duff and two on the couch. The older kids were still sleeping, as teenagers were wont to do. Marie shut the TV off after a while, claiming that they were rotting their brains. Get some fresh air, is what she always said, but Seattle wasn't quite as lovely as where she grew up. It rained, and often. Grey skies painted the backdrop of his childhood. 

Looking out the window and seeing drops of rain splatter on the leaves, he decided to draw instead of play outside. Grabbing a sheet of paper and some crayons, he sat back down at the kitchen table. The multi-colored utensils had been used by all seven of his siblings by the looks of them. Some colors were missing completely, others only stubs. That didn't matter to Duff. He wasn't picky. Purple could still make an excellent skin color. 

Tiny hands clutched a grubby purple crayon, forming childish scribbles on the paper. Their street. Some trees. A big sun, even though it was never sunny. Them, his family, lined up in front of the houses. Elmer, Marie, and all eight kids in their purple glory. Duff was proud of his drawing and wanted to give it to his father. For Dad, he scrawled in the top right corner. Sitting back with a pleased little grin on his face, he clutched the drawing and held it up to the light. 

Nearly everyone has a memory or two of waiting with barely contained excitement to show or say something to someone. Whether it's telling a mother that she's going to be a grandma or watching a loved one unwrap a gift you gave them, there is a certain type of anticipation that most people can recognize. It was something Duff experienced that day. Looking back as a teenager, he would cringe at his naive enthusiasm for the drawing, but at the time of its conception, it was the greatest thing in the world. He strutted around the house, weaving in-between his family's legs, presenting it to anyone who would pay attention. Look, he said. Look at this drawing I made! It's for Dad! Marie and the older kids humored him, fluffing up his young ego, but the tension was still there. Well-hidden, but there. He sensed it but still kept pushing it away.