At least it has a good moral
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this has got to be the most Ghid irl moment in existence 
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joe mama
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PART 6
On New Year’s Day, 2016, Ghid and his son Winger were honored by the New Year’s Day Parade. It’s not only a great year for Ghid’s family but a huge milestone for his work ethic. He’s a hardworking individual, he’s a tough worker, he’s committed to his principles. He’s had some of the toughest times of his life. And we can’t forget him as a kid. He’s been a great parent and he’s worked hard and he’s always been there to give his best.
Ghid noticed a small red dot on his wrist. The dot was so tiny, that he looked up to the parade in awe. “Winger, there’s a red dot on my wrist,” he said.
“I don’t care.” Winger said.
There was a gunshot.
Ghid’s hand was numb. He looked down at his son. “You’re supposed to be a normal kid,” he said. He was not kidding. “Dad, what am I going to do?”
“Well, I’m going to have to have the help of a doctor,” he said. He felt the pain. He looked at his son, like he wasn’t thinking about going to the funeral. His hand shook, his voice growing cold. “Dad, what are you doing?” He looked back at his son. “You don’t want me to go to the doctor?” The crowd began to roar, “Winger is dead!”
Ghid had stopped and went to the hospital. “Joe is dead,” he said.
“Joe? Joe?”
“Yeah, I’m sure Joe is dead,” Ghid said.
“Who is Joe?”
“Yeah,” Ghid said.
After the surgery, the doctor told Ghid to sit down with him. He had no idea why he was going to sit down with him. Ghid felt his hand hurt, the way his hand had hurt. “I have bad news,” he said.
“He’ll die,” Ghid said.
“What?” The doctor asked.
“Why did you say the words ‘Bout die,’ huh?”
“What?” The doctor asked.
“Yeah,” Ghid answered.
“Your hand is gone, and I’ve been here for a long time, and I’m sure you have questions.” Ghid’s eyes widened. He tried to explain why his hand hadn’t been gone, but his hand remained gone. “What’s going on?” He asked. “Is Joe alive? He’s not dead,” he said.
“What?” The doctor asked.
“He’s alive,” Ghid answered. “I’ll have to go find him. The only thing that could happen is he’s gone.” Ghid’s voice sounded slightly distorted from normal.
Winger was standing next to him, in the middle of the room, looking at him, with his hands in his lap. One of them had been separated from him. Ghid’s hand was shaking in pain. He felt his hand hurt, and that was how it was. He looked up at him, his eyes moving on him. “Don’t say anything,” he said.
“Need a hand?” The doctor asked.
“I will hurt you, too,” Ghid said, then turned around and began strangling him. Winger pushed him back onto the floor. The doctor shook his head, and said, “I’m sorry, but I can’t give you anything.” He pulled him up, and walked away.
Winger took Ghid away, and walked away from the hospital. “Come to the apartment,” he said. “The next day, we’ll find something to do.”
“Abdulrahman!” Ghid exclaimed. “He’s not dead.” He walked over to the apartment and opened a window. “Abdulrahman!” Ghid shook his head. “He won’t do anything. He won’t. He won’t do anything.”
“Dad?” Winger asked. “You are a fool.” He nodded. “It’s hard to be a father.”
“Dad? How is it that you live like a child in a world where a father cannot control your behavior?” “Yes,” Ghid responded. “I feel light-headed.”
“What?” Winger asked. Ghid jumped out of the apartment and landed in the street and walked off. “Yes,” Ghid said. “I’m still alive. My death was just a matter of trolling.” He walked away.
Winger grabbed Ghid’s hand and ran after him. “Ghid! I can’t help but feel ashamed, man!” he said. “Get a hold of it.” He looked at Ghid’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“We need you to call me back,” Ghid responded, staring at nothing. " The police want me dead. If I run to Khashin, I’ll call you back."
“You must get my son out of here,” Ghid said, “he’s worried a car might go over him. Is it OK? He’s scared. Maybe his brother’s death will take him back in time. We need you to take care of him.”
Winger dragged Ghid back to his room. “I need him, son, father,” Ghid said, shaking his head. “He’s gone. He can’t be safe, but I’m sorry,” Ghid said, “it’s not right. I can’t believe what he’s been through.”
“We’re all here,” Ghid said, turning to his hand. “We’re all here.” Winger eased Ghid into the chair. “Please,” he said. “Dad, please wake up. Please.” He started crying.
“No, we’re not here,” he said, staring at his son. “There is no room, no security here. It’s a police station. I’m scared. If my son dies, he is dead. If the police try to kill him, I’ll be there, I’ll be there, I’ll be there. And that’s the best I can say.”
Hugh was not at that moment able to see him. He was walking around, walking to the door, and being concerned that he might die. But he could hear his brother’s words, and he could see his father’s body in the grass, while Ghid stood there. He could hear his mother’s scream, his father’s face, and his own voice. He felt that the blood, his arms, the bodies, the screams in his head, were real. The sound was real. The voice was real. The eyes were real. His voice was real. The blood was real. And he looked down, shook, and then he opened the door.
“Ghid.” He was smiling. “I see you have a son.”
He closed the door. The voice in his head was like an airhorn in a room, and the other little ones in his head were on fire. “You killed Abdulrahman Ghid,” he told him. “He was just an ordinary man.”
“Who was you?” Ghid asked.
“Ahm. I am Hugh Ghid.”
He turned to Ghid and told him what had happened. Ghid had just come home and met Abdulrahman. He had been a police officer for the past fifteen years, and when he met Ghid, he was in awe. “Please forgive the way you killed Abdulrahman Ghid,” he said. “I don’t want to think about what life will be like for your children.”
Ghid, however, was so confused, he turned to the air, looked at him, and said “Hugh Ghid.” Ghid was smiling, and he was laughing at the thought of him. “You did it.”
“Oh really?” He said.
He looked back at him and said, “What did I do?”
“I am a little confused,” he said, “but your name is so bad it woke me up.”
Ghid said, “That’s all, gee.” Ghid, then, turned and began to move. Hugh Ghid, then even angrier, turned to him, “He was my father. I’ll never forgive you.”
Ghid began to look at him again. He looked at his face, and then suddenly slugged him in the eye, causing his chest to fall. He was lying face down, but his face looked so sore, he lost consciousness. “Ghid,” Winger said. “Your hand, it…”
Ghid looked at his hand. It was back. “I guess I’m twice as handy as I was, right?” He smiled. Hugh Ghid, then, stood up and looked at him." But that’s immeasurable!"
“The only thing immeasurable is my fist,” Winger said, “and I am so sorry for this.” He and Ghid both punched Hugh out of the window. Then Hugh Ghid ran away.
“The moral of this whole thing, Ghid,” Winger said, “is that if you don’t understand what it means to be alive, you’ll die.”
“Yeah,” Ghid said.
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This is the greatest line I have heard in this story.
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I saw the notification for this reply and knew exactly which line was being quoted
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