Sorry, Pop - I didn't call you on Father's Day. Your son's an asshole, I know. And, to be completely honest, I didn't even forget this year like I have so many times in the past - this time I simply chose not to be compelled to call you when it wasn't convenient for me just for the sake of some arbitrary date that society (whatever that means) deemed to be the official day for me to call you, EVEN THOUGH WE JUST SPOKE A COUPLE OF DAYS BEFORE.
To be more honest, it wasn't even that it was inconvenient for me to call you that day (I wasn't working and was pretty much sitting around reading and smoking cigarettes), it's just that I don't think I could've actually brought myself to say the words "Happy Father's Day" to you - it would've felt almost like a lie, just as it did the last few times i uttered it to you. It felt, and would've felt again, like it did back when I was a kid and was forced to apologize to some other, asshole kid even though I wasn't sorry in the least.
It's a lot like the whole 'you better behave, or you'll get coal in your stocking' thing (and the whole 'heaven and hell' thing, actually) - the idea is a worthy one, as most of us sloppy bitches need a push in the right direction even though we should be doing these things anyway (like behaving in general, honoring our folks and being nice to our fellow humans), without the fear of being banished to hell, missing out on X-mas presents, or feeling like an asshole for not calling Dad on Father's Day.