Home Again

So I settle into all the drama, best i can. Lost my dog back to my ex cuz Dante would eat her. After 4 months of peace and quiet, I’m in a zoo…applied for that job, NEVER EVEN GOT A CALLBACK. Second time i went into town, saw Josh’s brother at the grocery store. Typical. Managed to stay out of sight, not a confrontation I’m ready for. *shakes head violently* So far this move is a TOTAL bust. Story of my life. I have succeeded in nothing but filling my every moment with noise of some kind. Enter mom. Got a call from her one day, needing my help. Painting and remodeling one of her rental properties. Can i come stay a couple weeks and help her out….SURE HELL YEAH I CAN!!! No bratty kids, only one bratty dog. My own room. My own BATHROOM! Total control of the tv & computer til 8 pm when she gets home. Yep. Uh huh. Sounds like a plan. Maybe I’ll just stay…. Here’s the part MOM forgot to mention. Her hubby is a drunk asshole son of a bitch!!!! (That nerve is still pretty raw too) (And here’s where the memories and details are a little fresher) When i moved in with mom and (names Anthony, i prefer) Dickhead, it was ummm….May? 2010. No chance of seeing Josh. Or anyone else. Great!! To be honest tho, which is the whole point in all this, things were getting bad for me where he was concerned. I had a whole new pain in my ass, and I’m now missing him REALLY REALLY bad. Crying every night. No facebook or anyone to talk to once mom is home. Just sitting in my room, watching my movies, thinking. We got the painting done, everything else too. On her days off from work. Dickhead drives a truck. Great. Drunk truck driver. Nice, dumbass. He’s gone overnight, home for a couple hours in the afternoon. Great. Except the weekends I’m the only one who sees him. At first it was ok. First of all, to let ya know, I’ve known this man most of my life. Actually thought of him as my friend once. Get to that some other time. Anyway. He’d come home for lunch, come in, say hello, sit down, we’d smoke a joint, talk, joke, normal shit. He’d get up, repack his cooler, lunch sodas and such. I dont THINK he drank when he was on more than 4 wheels. At least i HOPE. On weekends he was home. Mom off friday and sunday. By 3 on fri afternoon he’s well into his first of several cases of beer for the weekend. By 8 pm, he’s barely vertical, and running his mouth til you wanna knock his false teeth down his stupid throat. Which didn’t take long. And it wouldn’t have been a difficult task, as shit-faced as he was. Mom made him drink out in the building out back, so we were good til he just couldn’t stay upright amymore. Then its on. You hear the back door open, better get ready. I would always go to my room. Don’t wanna hear it. *shakes head again* And it starts. Sits at dining room table (right on other side of my bedroom wall) and the shit talkin starts. ‘How bout it’ is ALWAYS the FIRST thing he says. ‘Well. How bout it?’ How bout WHAT anthony? mom says. ‘How bout anything.’ ???????? ‘Well, I don’t know. Don’t know what you’re talking about’ ‘WELL YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE SUCH A SMARTASS MOTHERFUCKER ABOUT IT’ Me: in my head: WHAT THE FUCK JUST HAPPENED? Lol The night goes on, progressing from bad to worse. He never HURT anyone btw. Just yakked and yakked and yakked nonfuckingstop for hours sometimes. Sometimes incoherently, but SOMETIMES….oh….he would be DEAD if i didn’t want to go to jail and even then if my mom hadn’t stopped me, SEVERAL times. One saturday, mom was working, i was home alone, with the drunk. He was WELL sloshed when i got up to get the trash together to take to the dump, and he wanted to ride with. I told him ok, just to shut him up. But also told him NO BEER RUNS. Nope. Uh uh. While I’m standing by the trash can in our kitchen, bent over tying the bag i just took out, he walks up and slaps me on the ass. *jaw drops* i spun on my heels, put my finger on the bridge of his stupid little glasses between his beady lil glass eyes, and told him, ‘you EVER touch me again, i will chop off first your fingers, then your tiny lil dick. You are MARRIED to my MOTHER. That does not in any way give you any rights to me.’ I think if i remember correctly, i literally scared the piss out of him, he went to change clothes while i gathered the trash. Muahahahaha!!!! Lil bastard never touched me again tho…ha! And yes, i told mom immediately 🙂 sang like a little songbird, i did. I always told her everything he did and said. And left any physical evidence of his stupidity for her to see. i.e. piss puddles in the corner *gags* anything i felt she needed to know about…and NO FUCKING WAY am i cleaning up piss after a so-called grown fucking man so immature that he lets a fucking can run his life. I’m still tender, lol. This is how things went for some time. Mom forbid me to do or say anything but properly defend myself. At the time, he made good money, and we needed it. Plus, all 4 rentals are occupied, we have nowhere to go. I started taking moms truck on weekends i didn’t have the kids and going for refuge at MEAGANS. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? lol maybe i shouldve stayed in VA. But now, knowing what my mom is going thru with him…i can’t leave her. I don’t trust him. So i stay. One weekend i was asked to house-sit for Meagan. Its extra $$ and a WHOLE WEEKEND ALONE!! So naturally, i said yes. Spent all weekend watching tv, enjoying total peace and quiet. As usual, Dante was my guard, and my shadow. On Sunday, it was time to return to reality. On my way home, i stopped at an old abandoned house to dig up some beautiful flowers that i wanted to plant at home, and i planned to visit the cemetery and put some of them on the grave of my best friend killed in 93 in a drunk driving accident at age 15. Little did i know that before i made it to her, i would be well on my way to…..Soulmates…Trying It Again

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