January 5, 2013
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2013 Winter Scavenger Hunt #48: Dinner
You know you are bored when temptation is the desire to kill your neighbor's lorikeets. You would think that one was enough, but the damn bitch had 10. She was always being nice to me, too. I get that she was a lonely old lady, probably somebody's grandma, both those fuckers should come and talk to her then. Those damn squawking birds. 10 of them.
I like to smoke on my balcony. It's my balcony when I pay the rent, ain't it. You'd think it. She'd come out all sunshine and bitter, stale, vagina and tell me about how I shouldn't smoke. Well, damn your stupid fucking birds shouldn't keep me awake all night. So, I have a vendetta against some birds, amongst other things, but the birds were at the top of my list.
So technically, it's not my apartment. It's some dudes and maybe I would let him be my old man if he'd stop leaving me with his fucking brat; especially since that bitch's birds don't know what shut the fuck up means no matter how many fucking times I bang on the floor. I hated that brat. What the fuck was wrong with its mother? Did I look like a babysitter? I ain't complaining though. The gig would be good if it weren't for those birds.
"Cheese soup is not breakfast." quoth the snotty brat...quoth...you like that shit? I can be a smart ass bitch if I want.
"It is when I give it to you." I frown. "or you can just be hungry you little prick."
"Are you going to put on some clothes?" what was his name asked. Don't worry, I knew its name. It's my story and I'll tell it however I like. If you don't like it then go complain to my downstairs neighbor. She hates me, too.
"I'm sorry your daddy fucks whores little shit." I did try to be nice to the kid once or twice, but then he pissed me off about something I don't remember. Yea, I did call its mom a whore. She is. I mean where the fuck was she? and where the fuck was he? I fantasized about killing those fucking birds with cyanide, but I might kill the old bitch, too. I didn't feel like going to fucking jail.
"What time do I need to pick you up?" I frown. "and do I really fucking have to. Don't they have buses anymore?"
"I have a baseball game after school." It tried to eat the canned cheese soup. Ingrate. I put the shit in the microwave and everything. "Will my dad be there?"
"Do I look like the psychic hotline?" Those birds...those mother fucking birds. "Are you done with that shit?" He didn't answer fast enough so I put my cigarette out in it. To drop it off at the Jr. High School or Middle School or wherever bloody fucking brats go.
It whined all the way there, too. Did I have to get out? Couldn't I get some damned pants. A bikini top is not a blouse. Will my dad be there? Will he be there? Wah! wah! wah! Brat. I fucking hope so because I don't think I could handle another night of whining and squawking. I did get out. I got out and smoked a cigarette with the music blaring just to piss them off. They all knew who I was. Bitches.
I could do better. I think I could do better. There was this guy that taught a ceramics class at the community college. Do people really waste their money on that shit? I was getting bored with this gig anyway. Especially, those damned birds. He might be even more boring, but he didn't have no kids or ex-wife baggage. Like I said, did I look like a babysitter? I was just waiting on him to fucking call me, but if he didn't, I always find someone else.
So I get home, well, what I was calling home. I just wanted to be left in peace until he came home or I had to go get his brat. He had some redeeming qualities you know and most of them involved sex. All I knew was he had better not knock me up or else he'd have to find some other skank dumb enough to watch two little shits for him. Knocked up...not this woman. The knock at the door should have went unanswered, but when your idea of temptation is to kill your neighbors birds, you do anything for excitement.
Two of them. A male and a female. They kept making eyes at each other and then looking guilty about it. It was fairly humorous really. They were there to witness to me or share good news or some shit. They held some kind of literature or pamphlet, it didn't matter to me. Jehovah's Witnesses, Scientologist, Vacuum Cleaner salesman. "Please, come in." I smiled and lead them to the den. "Sorry its such a mess." I lie, but what did they know? They were Jehovah's Witnesses. I offer them a drink and no I did not bring them a beer, or wine, or a Pepsi for giggles and shits. I brought them some lemonade. It was just Kool-Aid or some store named shit, but whatever. They smiled. "Am I making you uncomfortable. I can put on a shirt." I pretended to be embarrassed by my nakedness. They said that it was OK. They had only come to bring m good news and I had no need to worry about Jehovah torturing me for my wicked ways. I listened to their Truth with tears in my eyes for it was just the call I needed. I wanted to be saved from my wicked ways but I had to escape first. I knew I was alone and could go at any time, but I had to get my birds back first. The three of us could move them in their cages. The male one seemed a little skeptical, but the girl one horrified by my tale of torment, and yes even the old lady that took my birds tormented me convinced him otherwise, though he still seemed skeptical and thought we should just call the police. I thought Jehovah's Witnesses didn't believe in technology. Lying sacks of shit.
They did help me get those fucking birds and I told them I would indeed call them when I reached the shelter. I had to wait for my son. Thank God my would be old man left pictures of his little shit around and he had a fucking type. I was prettier than that bitch though.
Those stupid birds stopped squawking. I wonder if they knew what they had coming. Probably fucking not. They probably squawked because that old bat pissed them off, too. Stupid childish shithead. Complain about my fucking cheese soup. I hope he likes lorikeets because that's what he was having for dinner and I would sleep peacefully in domestic bliss.
48. A piece incorporating: Jehovah's Witnesses, baseball, lorikeets, cheese soup, ceramics class, waiting for a phone call.
7 pts
Comments (5)
@Erika_Steele - No, No, No!!! I love the candy canes, and I beg you to leave them for a little while longer, for we need the good tidings and great cheer. My header looks like I am advertising a mortuary, but I have to get my kids in Cincinnati to change it for me when I get there,for I am computer ignorant.// The happiest thing in the world happened tonight just when I was a little down; A friend from back there has her book club taking on,"Pinkhoneysuckle," and I am as thrilled as a little kid in a candy tree, so do not change it until you are in the mood for St. Valentine to fill the world with cheer; Alas, winter will be almost gone. God Bless!
Barb
@PinkHoneysuckle - I need to change that picture. I did not put the candy cane there. I discovered it on a walk at the Arboretum with John so I took a picture. When I was a child, I used to think the money I made in academia would fund my writing. I think I should have done it the other way around. Research is way too addictive to give up.
Honest to God, I think you should give up this science thing and go in to writing for television comedy writers -- Or let us make this--For when they visit Las Vegas, becaus you are just plain hilarious and have the charisma of an Evangelical Pastor. Hey, that is another idea, and just think of all the wonderful Halloween get ups you could drag out preaching as if you were a gifted 13 year old getting down with the Spirit. Of course, you would tell John to keep his mouth shut, and it is the Devil who makes you participate in such horrendous ways.// I keep meaning to thank you for the candy canes on the trees, for they are of such cheer. People come out to San Francisco for two weeks in spring time, and make remarks, "How can we possibly return to our sad towns when this is the most gorgious place on God's earth?"
It is grey or golden, (Another word for dried up pasures, "Golden," and no we do not go below freezing, though tonight it is apt to get into the thirties, and we live in many places with no central heat! Of course it is, "Beautiful," if you can live with four weeks of green hills and houses minus creature comforts half the year. Does any one ever ask themselves that people tend to be jumpers from The Golden Gate Bridge because they are depressed?? It sure as hell is not that cherry blossom season waxes heavy on their hearts.
The one and only sad thought when I see the candy canes is that the famous, "Ramseys," -- May that little girl who died at unknown hands rest in peace, but when they showed their idealic home setting that Christmas, I remember the pretty candy canes and the perfect gingerbread looking house, and it broke my heart that a little soul was being tormented in the pageant circuit. I was never able to decorate with candy canes after that, but yours in the green trees make me happy.
God bless you and your baby, John, in this New Year, and please take care.
Blessings, An Old Mom,
Barbara Everett Heintz; And I do hope you will read, "Pinkhoneysuckle," someday. I would value your opinion.
@PinkHoneysuckle - ROFL. That's pretty accurate.
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