I stood, my knees buckled, and stared right past the mic in front of my nose and into the crowd. The microphone smelled of puke and beer, neither of which I was too interested in having so close to my mouth, but either way, I cleared my throat, looked back to Ethel, and began. I was here for one reason and one reason only. I needed money to support my daughter Sara and my son Kyle. My ex-girlfriend Maya wanted nothing to do with them after they were born (when I was 19 and she 18) and thrust them upon me, and I'm not exactly the most competent father. I try my hardest to make money to feed and clothe them. My singing voice was the only thing keeping us all alive. Two men in the back smiled and nudged one another.