It was just another typical Saturday night at the Schrader trailer. I laid in my tiny bedroom, walls barely able to contain my ever-expanding girth, listening to the familiar sounds drifting in from the next room.

My old man Big Hank had brought home his usual bag of "goods" as he called it, and was already firing up the party. I could hear him snorting and coughing, hollering at my ma to bring him another beer. Then it was time for the name-calling to start.

"Hey Tia!" he shouted. "Where's my fat little piggy of a son at? Come out and say hi to daddy!" I knew better than to answer. Any interaction with Big Hank when he was like this usually ended badly.

It seemed like all he did was get high, drink away what little money he made doing odd construction jobs, and terrorize me and ma. He was a former Korean War veteran and ever since he was fired from his job as a drill sergant, he had been staying home making me and Ma miserable. Our double-wide was in a constant state of disrepair, holes in the walls and leaky pipes. But all the rent money went up Big Hank's nose instead of repairs.

My mama wasn't much better. Too scared of my dad to stand up to him, she'd hole up in her room and leave me to fend for myself most nights. The rare meal she cooked was lukewarm, burned leftovers shoveled onto my plate with no care. She made it clear from a young age I was just another burden.

All the other kids in the park had it easier it seemed. Their dads worked real jobs, came home for dinner instead of passing out in a drug stupor on the couch. Their families didn't live in constant fear. But me, I was stuck with the town bastard Big Hank as a father. morbidly obese with no friends and no way out.

It was on nights like this I'd cry myself to sleep, praying I'd wake up somewhere else, to a new family who might actually want me. Instead I was doomed to remain Hank Schrader, the fat, worthless mistake of a son in ABQ's worst trailer park, with no end in sight to this sad existence.

Big Hank's latest bender was in full swing. I could hear him shouting slurred insults and cursing at the TV from my bedroom as another football game got underway.

Summoning my courage, I slowly emerged and stood in the doorway. "Um, dad?"

He barely glanced my way, too absorbed in his beer and whatever powder was on the coffee table. "What do you want, you little troll?"

I tried to keep my voice steady. "I was just thinking, maybe we could play some catch. You know, like they do on TV."

That got his attention. Big Hank exploded into a guttural laugh, spraying spittle in his lap. "Catch? With you?" He laughed even harder, loud guffaws that shook the whole trailer.

Once he regained some composure, he slapped his massive thigh. "Good one, HankyY Boy. Like I'd waste my time playing some pansy game with a blob like you. Catch is for Commies and people with low self esteem."

I stared down at my swollen feet, used to the insults by now. "But dad, it could be fun. And maybe it would help me lose weight?"

A dark look crossed his face. In an instant he was on his feet, towering over me. I recoiled in fear, but there was nowhere to run.

"You think you're gonna tell me what to do in my own house, you fat sack of lard?" he bellowed, spit flecking my face. "I said go to your room! Before I really give you something to cry about, Ms. Piggy!."

Shaking, I hurried off to my bedroom as fast as my heavy legs could carry me, eyes stinging with tears. Another attempt at bonding with my father, crushed before it could begin. As i was there, i heard laughter all the way from my father.