Tuesday Night Fights

They’re fighting, J and M. She’s all squrrely with her phone. He’s jealous. He gets the phone and finds texts between her and another man. Only, to make matters worse, it’s the dope man from back home. The fucking dope man. She’s breaking my son’s heart over that piece of shit. 

I can’t keep much to myself, so I go outside. She’s screaming like a banshee that J is a piece of shit. I was livid. I told her she’s a piece of shit. She silences herself immediately as she realizes her lil game is over. I told her that I don’t care how old my son is, she’s not fucking with mine. I invited her out to see if her fucking Highness the Hoodrat might like to try her luck with me. She declined. My son, now furious with me, as well, yells at me to go back in the house. I told him I’ll go in when I’m done with that shady bitch. She still can’t believe her ears. I’ve been much too nice to her, and, frankly, I’m surprised as she is at the words coming out of my mouth. But I mean every one as I explain to her exactly how I’m going to break her shady, dirty ho ass down till she’ll fit in a suitcase with the rest of the shit she brought here. I couldn’t breathe. I was furious. And the words just kept coming out like I was speaking in tongues. 

I guess I won’t win a Mother of the Year award for tonight. But all I wanted was to sleep and wake up and head to the coast. I told the bitch she better be packed because she is coming with me if I have to shove her in the trunk. I’ll drop her sorry ass in Chelsea and never look back. That’s where she belongs. 

I’m still too mad to sleep. I should’ve beat her ass. I’m just old for this bullshit. I was raised with this crap being the order of the day and I’m not growing old with the same. J needs to be more selective. You cannot make a ho a housewife. Whoever said that was not wrong, in any way. M is a good example. 

It seems to have quieted down out there. It’s hard to tell with the thunderstorm pounding away. I’m soaking wet. Oh my God I’m so pissed off and hurt for my son. There is nothing that hurts like betrayal. Nothing. But he’s got issues, too. I know, better than anyone, that my son isn’t perfect. I don’t know why any woman in her right mind would be involved with him. But I’ve seen his black eyes, scratched up face, bruises all over him time and again. She flips shit and plays victim when he holds her down to defend himself. She loves that victim shit. He had another girlfriend just like her, so I know the signs. When he’s bruised up and she has no marks, but cries victim…nope…not gonna work with me. Right now, I wish I’d told my sons not to hit a female UNLESS they hit you, and abuse you. Then, and only then, beat their bitch ass. 

And I don’t give a fuck how bad that sounds. 

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