Debbie, Didi, Eddy…..So What Fucking Whore Of Satan’s Asshole’re

Bringing home tonight? Hmm….A fucking Eddy. Goddamned it. Goddamned her. Goddamned them all.

All the fucking same. Come in late night, early night, noonthirty drunk and still thirsty af. Ya fucking fucker you.

No, I wouldn’t say I am angry [to those you thinking that, I see you]. I just am a poor. Poor at that nurturing, founding love that infants are supposed to receive. I’m over being held emotionally paralyzed by the trauma that occurred. hat’s it, just being. Just surviving the bullshit of the evening. The next day, going to school like a normal.

Great. Fucking Eddy has a goddamned kid. And they’ve both fucking moved in since the goddamned weekend. Mind you, it’s only been three days, as today’s just Wednesday and there’s a skank is in the kitchen. And there’s skank luggage on the floor – Skanks are like fleas, once you see your first one at your residence, it take months and months of eradication – Happy, happy, joy. And how old is this crowned whore of Country Cousin [of Lizard Lick, NC fame]? Ah, much older than me, that’s good. Let’s see how long this’ll last.

Almost two weeks.

You fuckers lasted almost two weeks before you began throwing and breaking shit. The next day going to school like a normal.

During that 12 day break-in period, I did get my only birthday present that year. My 16th. I hear-tell grand stories of a Sweet 16th….so, my only gift that year was a carton of cigarettes. I shit you not. I have no reason to lie nor any desire to fucker up my brainholes with more ubiquitous noise in the ub form of words. I like my brain to be a nice big blank canvas, with happy clouds and soft grass. Okay, I got two gifts the day I turned 16 in October. A carton of [stolen from the gas station] cigarettes from a 2 week old whore in the home and a helium balloon from the principal at SSS. Of which, I promptly carried the bday balloon to the courtyard and we huffed the helium. Passing the balloon, cigarettes and Boone’s Farm between classes. Now that was a birthday to be remembered.

I’ve been a parent for 25 years. I know it’s hard af. But it’s like you didn’t even try and shit. Or did you? Was that your best?….It couldn’t Even on my worst parenting day, ever…I could never imagine subjecting my sons to the shit you made me witness. No wonder you died in a pile of your own shit.

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