It was the bar instead of the office for my father. Then he decided to drunkenly beat the everliving fuck out of my mother in front of me, gifting me with lifelong PTSD and the inability to recall "happy" childhood memories (that one flasbulb memory is all that comes up). When he dies I want to go to his funeral to make sure they stick his ass good and deep in the ground. May see if they'll let me shovel some dirt in. Wish the fucker would have stayed at work.