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Cocaina … con “C” de Carlos

…tenia una mirada seria y obscura que intimidaba sin dar miedo pero a la vez incitaba a obedecer ciegamente

Carlos es la cocaina que utilizaste por primera y ultima vez porque esa primera vez fue la que te mato.

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Jamas lo había intentado, bebía cerveza de vez en cuando y más de una vez probé el cigarro. Más tarde en años me fume un puro cubano sabor chocolate junto a mi padre.

La cocaína era una substancia prohibida… ni de loca lo intentaría, seria un acto contra mi moral, mis principios… se trataba de embarrar entre la basura el nombre de mi padre. Jamas se me antojo, no me llamaba la atención aunque de vez en cuando nos miramos a los ojos por un par de segundos. Le sostenía la mirada, no retándolo pero sosteniendo mi lugar en la sociedad como libertina que se daba a respetar. Cada vez que veía a mis amigos gay sorbérsela o embarrársela en las encías para después eructar en una orgía me daba más asco.

No se porque pero finalmente caí, tal vez porque esta vez el vendedor… o sea el “dealer“, era completamente diferente a los tlacuaches bodegueros que nos vendían marihuana en los baños de las gasolineras en los barrios pobres.

Era callado, tenia oficio, se vestía y olía bien… tenia una mirada seria y obscura que intimidaba sin dar miedo pero a la vez incitaba a obedecer ciegamente. Me llamaban la atención sus manos limpias y suaves, quería sentir sus dedos gruesos sobre mi piel pero me limitaba a dejarle apretarme me suavemente la mano cuando tomaba su pago.

La primera vez…
Sentí como me entro el frio por la nariz, un frio profundo que dolía y a la vez me iba matando el dolor poco a poco. Fue algo así como saltar a la piscina sin soplar el aire por la nariz y te va entrando el agua mientras sientes que te ahogas pero no… No pasa nada, siempre llega alguien a salvarte aunque después se ria de ti.
Fue algo así pero mucho más fuerte aun, sentí presión alrededor de los ojos como si se me sumieran hasta la nuca, a la misma vez que un temblor caliente me subió de entre las piernas hasta mi garganta. El frenesí me enloqueció y sentí que el corazón iba a explotarme, lo último que alcancé a ver fue su frente bordada por su cabellera negra y pesada mientras la pared y el techo se apoderaban de mi vista. Parecía que eran ellos los que me jalaban los ojos de la cara ya que yo había perdido control de mi ser totalmente. A la misma vez me sentía invencible… quise correr hasta él y morderlo, destruirle la sala entera, era más allá de la ira y más profundo que el deseo mezclado con una enorme tristeza. Me quede tumbada en esa silla mientras mi alma se despego de mí, él seguía sentado frente a mí con sus manos tibias sobre mis rodillas entre abiertas.
Quise volver a mi cuerpo para sentirlo frotarme suavemente con sus manos pero ya era demasiado tarde… ¿será que tanto placer esta prohibido en este mundo?

 

 

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El infierno sin Dante

Quisiera decir que agradezco haberme enamorado e ilusionado con la misma persona pero no es el caso. Me cago la existencia hasta más no poder.

 

Lo conocí cuando menos lo quise… cuando estaba convencida de que lo que menos necesitaba era el amor de un hombre… pero me convenció de lo contrario. ¿A cuantos no nos pasa así?

Estamos seguros de que la vida esta bien y de la nada llega alguien a convencernos de lo contrario. Tenía 27 años y me había recibido de la universidad con título de pediatra. Me fascinaban los niños pero no quería tener ninguno, siempre preferí cuidar los ajenos… siempre cuide lo ajeno menos a mí. Hasta que llego Dante… maldita sea mi suerte por haberlo conocido.

Quisiera decir que agradezco haberme enamorado e ilusionado con la misma persona pero no es el caso. Me cago la existencia hasta más no poder.

Después de dos años fue una ruptura limpia, regrese a vivir a con mi papá que seguía viudo y soltero. Mi papá con su olor a tabaco y melasa, decidimos conservar la amistad que nos unió en el postgrado. Fue cuando mi autoestima y mi felicidad se fueron a la mierda por un tubo de drenaje hasta el culo del mundo, de donde aún no me recupero.
Nos contrataron en el mismo hospital, él inicio una relación con la directora de la sección de maternidad… le llevaba 15 años y jamás me lo contó. También sostenía relaciones de fin de semana con mi compañera de turno en el área de recién nacidos… tampoco lo supe a tiempo. Él seguía conmigo sin llevar el titulo de novios gracias al pretexto de que nuestras carreras eran demasiado ajetreadas, pero me juraba amor eterno como el primer día.

Fue mi compañera de turno quien me dejo saber primero… sin querer. Me dijo que estaba embarazada de él, que tenían más de un año de relación a escondidas porque él no podía dejar a la histérica de su novia cuando estaba en la universidad pero al fin se había librado de ella, que la directora del área de maternidad lo acosaba y por eso su relación tenia que ser discreta. Esa misma noche me bajo el sangrado de la regla cuando ya llevaba 6 semanas de retraso… creo que iba a ser niña.

Tal vez sea enfermedad mental la miá, me sabia su contraseña de correo electrónico, no se porque ni por el bien de quien pero entré. Busque entre sus archivos personales y lo encontré… un archivo personal con la “Y”, mi compañera se llama Yasmin… no lo cerré hasta que termine de verlo todo. Dante siempre fue una fiera en la cama, un degenerado romántico, hacer el amor con el era un campo de batalla con una mezcla de concierto de violines. Sabia cada parte de mí y borraba cada uno de mis defectos cada vez que me tocaba. Ahora recordarlo me produce asco. Tenía vídeos con Yasmin que las mismas estrellas de porno deberían tomar como consejo, había fotos de cada parte de su cuerpo expuesto … no era mentira, la conocía desde mucho antes de terminar conmigo. Me quede hipnotizada por el último vídeo… tal vez era el primero de los dos… sus ojos verdes me hipnotizaron, sus curvas expuestas a la cámara y sus pecas parecían acentos de lujuria que le salpicaban por los senos. Su cabello de sirena color trigo le acariciaba los hombros. Estaba de rodillas en la cama… sobre las sábanas de lino blanco que compre cuando nos fuimos a vivir juntos… reconocí la pared celeste que había empezado a pintar de marrón ese noviembre. Escuche su voz ronca en el fondo “…que rica te ves …” empezó a frotarse murmurando su nombre, claro y fuerte a la vez hasta que se volvió un grito de excitación y quedó derrotada sobre la cama. Se acercó a ella desnudó a acariciarle los hombros hasta recorrer su espalda y nalgas perfectas y redondas…fin de grabación.

Si lo tuviera frente a mí, me gustaría decirle que tal vez me quiso por algún tiempo… pero lo hizo demasiado mal. Gracias a él deje de quererme sin querer, aunque me cuide el cutis y haga 200 sentadillas por las tardes, me arde el alma de tanto llorar y de sentirme tan puta y tan fea. Quiero dejar de perder horas del día y la noche llorando por algo que no fue cierto. Quiero, con todas mis fuerzas, quitarme el dolor que me duele al respirar y me corta el alma al sonreir.

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Intake

county jail

 

 

He was brought in for criminal mischief, he was a short, slim Hispanic… bald and not an inch over 5’5. He came from Honduras, we knew because he was a repeated offender and was usually coming in for nuisance things… criminal trespassing, shoplifting, unlawful carry of a weapon. He wasn’t your typical intimidating offender, he was just annoying, constantly playing a big hard criminal, the majority of the officers didn’t want to deal with him simply because he was annoying and not as much of a thug as he thought he was. You could picture this guy getting drunk and sizing up someone bigger than he whom he couldn’t fight but fighting him anyway just to prove he’s not a pussy.

Each time he came in to the jail it was the same thing, he refused to answer medical questions, he’d try to struggle out of a regular pat search, he’d spit at someone or try to swing, he’d get pepper sprayed, assisted to the ground and placed in a violent cell in a green smock… completely naked under that. Then the fun came, a good 6-8 hours of him kicking, banging and screaming at the top of his lungs every threat imaginable to any officer within eyesight or hearing range. Eventually he’d get tired and would allow us to book him in, then somewhere in the process he’d get frustrated again and would spit or curse at someone else, he’d get placed in an isolation cell for a good 15 days and then sent into general population to do his time. He never received visits, he never got money deposited to his commissary account, never purchased a calling card… there was pity looking at this guy. Some of the older offenders would sometimes humiliate him and he’d fight them… or at least try, not once did he win a fight and not once did anyone pay his bond to release him early.

His name was Harrison De los Santos… from the saints, and he didn’t speak a single English word other than “fuck you bitch” but his accent was so thick that it didn’t even sound offensive… too much emphasis on the “i” and the “u” in fuck he pronounced like “fo” it sounded more like
fo’ kee yu beetch
-…ha

This time there was only three of us in booking, when they saw the deputy dragging him in, the sergeant on staff hesitated to override the front sally port so one of us could go assist the deputy in dragging him in.
-here comes this son of a bitch again
-I got it ‘sarge’ .. as I put on my gloves

He wasn’t wearing a shirt and one of his shoes was missing, the deputy had him cuffed behind his back, I placed my hand under his arm and assisted in dragging him inside. He was kicking, hissing and spitting. It wasn’t until the deputy threw him on the pat search room that I noticed his pupils as big as olives. He wasn’t foaming at the mouth but he might as well had been. The hospital had released him because there was no risk of death … he had just been high for days on synthetic marihuana. He was caught running around the streets downtown assaulting random strangers and vandalizing cars. There had been three calls within a 10 minute span of civilians driving down the main road leading downtown that had bricks or rocks thrown at their cars as they were driving down the road. One guy got one of his fingers almost bitten off when De los Santos attempted to take his cigarette away. There were more calls about choked cats and stolen bicycles that were later found a block or two away. The first one came from his mother because he punched a hole through their front window and then ran out of the house without a shirt or shoes. When police showed up at her house she handed them a t-shirt and pair of sneakers, the deputy took it out of pity for the woman. Her son wasn’t right in the head, not because he was born with a deficiency , he simply wasn’t alright. They had attempted to put his shoes on at the time of arrest but he was struggling so much that he ended up kicking one off and hitting one of the officers who ended up pepper spraying him only to find that pepper spray does nothing to an individual that has been high out of his mind for the past 72 hours.

I couldn’t get him to settle down, we initiated ICS (incident command system) which called all rovers available to the section to assist in restraining De los Santos.. goddam the saints. We stripped him and attempted to place the smock on him but it was almost useless. He slithered out of it within seconds of rolling on the ground… those damn things are held on with Velcro. The shift had just started… we had at least 7 more hours of this. We left him inside with the leg restraints on because it was too dangerous to remove them as much as he was kicking, “sarge” made the call to leave him like that.
The policy is that after 45 minutes he has to exercise the limbs, but after 45 minutes he wasn’t calm yet. He was still banging and screaming. The guy had no idea where he was. Eventually the extra staff cleared from the section because they got bored of the screaming and banging. I liked it when we had someone screaming like that, it kept the new book ins on edge and hardly anyone else gave trouble.
De los Santos was not his usual annoying self this time… this time it was different, I thought it was a matter of time before he chewed his tongue off or pulled his penis off… I say it because I saw it once at the state prison. Well he didn’t but after 4 hours his feet were as big as the size of footballs… this is a 5’5 slim Hispanic… that’s pretty big feet. Of course, I’m the new guy who came from working at the big, bad state prison so I’m tasked to go in there and remove the feet restraints. There was shit and urine everywhere on the floor of the cell. There’s a hole in the middle of the floor where they can conduct this business but I doubt this guy realized what was flowing out of him. He was staring outside the cell window into nothingness. “Sarge” started talking to him

-De los Santos we’re about to go in there and remove the feet restraints alright, don’t try nothing or you will get sprayed!

..it’s policy that we must warn them before we deploy the chemical agents
I was thinking the entire time, I’m going to get my ass kicked and my face chewed off in a pool of piss and shit. I’m not the most religious person, simply because I’ve seen the back of God more than I have seen his merciful hand but I do pray, I pray to come home to my son and I pray to be able to make a decent man out of him. I started praying, against the humiliation of being rolled around in offender piss and shit, I prayed against the pain of picturing a chunk of my cheek being bitten off by this Honduran junkie. He didn’t move, sarge overrode the opening of the cell through the radio…

-central override violent cell 1
-…mother fuck it smells like shit

As I kneeled to remove the hand restraints. He didn’t flinch, his breathing was hard and he was sort of rocking from side to side. I removed the restraints slowly trying not to wake him from whatever trance he was on.
The slider closed and as soon as it shut he was on the window like a monkey screaming, hissing and banging. My eyes met his, I could feel the insanity looking right at me and it was though the devil himself was playing games with me, daring me to come closer.
It took 12 days for De los Santos to detox completely. He was never the same after that, he spilled food out of his mouth when he ate and he became a seizure precaution, we had him on 30 minute visuals and he was assigned a bottom bunk every time he came in.
Until someone killed him, he was coming out of the shower and another “96er” ( as we call the mentally unstable), punched him on the side of the head, he slipped and cracked his skull on the shower floor.

His mother never showed up to the prison to claim property.

 

 

xxANAxx

¿Recuerdas cuanto tiempo pasamos juntas, escondiendo tus graves ojeras bajo maquillaje pesado y como enmascarábamos el hambre con ira y falsos ánimos?

¿Me recuerdas?
Soy Ana,
La que te acompañaba cuando más sola te sentías, la que acariciaba tus miedos y te facilitaba un escondite cuando más lo necesitabas.
Soy aquella quien tenías en quien recargarte hace 15 años cuando el mundo se venía hacia abajo, cuando ese dolor en tu pecho te robaba el aliento y el suelo se desvanecía por debajo de ti.
¿Recuerdas cuanto tiempo pasamos juntas, escondiendo tus graves ojeras bajo maquillaje pesado y como enmascarábamos el hambre con ira y falsos ánimos?
Aún recuerdo cuantas horas pasamos contando calorías para no pensar en el trauma que te dejo aquel asalto en el metro de la ciudad.

También soy la que estuvo contigo cuando no podías decirle a tu familia que “el gallo dorado” de tu padre, su único hijo… no quería continuar heredando el apellido de tu padre, y prefería hacer mil abdominales y solo beber agua fría para llamar la atención del instructor de física. No te atrevías a decirle que te empeñabas tanto con tu equipo de futbol porque lo que más disfrutabas era la ducha después de cada practica rodeado de aquellos cuerpos que deseabas te tocaran de otra manera. Y finalmente paso, solo que no fue como quisiste y quien finalmente te tuvo fue el conserje gordo que, hacia el aseo de los baños, al que le apestaba la barba a melaza y tenía las unas siempre negras de mugre. El de los dientes amarillos… ese que se chupaba los dientes después de terminar de hablar y se sorbía los mocos en tiempo de invierno. Fue asquerosa esa tarde cuando te encontró solo en la ducha masturbándote con la imagen en la cabeza de tu mejor amigo, te encendió ayudarle a frotarse pomada para dolor de músculos sobre su espalda. Tuviste que inventar un pretexto para quedarte solo después de que todos salieran de la ducha y ahí fue donde te encontró el gordo asqueroso con pinta de albañil vulgar. Si, a ti también te acompañe, pero a ti no podía dejarte solo, así que te lleve conmigo… tomamos una cuerda y la lanzamos hasta donde el cielo apuntaba y ahí en esa casa abandonada ahogaste tu dolor y tu vergüenza. Sin nota, sin explicación… nada más que ese último suspiro de descanso que llego con el cosquilleo hasta la punta de tus pies avisándote al resto de tu cuerpo adolorido que aquí acabaría tu dolor.

¿Me recuerdas? Casi a tus 40 años cuando no logras aceptar que la suavidad de tu piel es normal y que aquellos que te atormentaron por tu gordura en la primaria se ven peor que tú.

¿y qué me dices tú? La que a sus 27 años cuida del mismo tío, al que se le cae la baba y que ni siquiera puede sostener una cuchara por el Parkinson que le dio. Ese mismo que te manoseaba desde niña, el que te robo la virginidad y de quien cuidas con tanta ternura porque tienes más miedo tú al odio y asco que le sientes que la vergüenza que le da a él recordarlo. Y que sabes bien que por eso llora él y lloras tú, porque se ven a los ojos y ambos saben, él llora de impotencia porque has crecido y tú lloras de asco y de la falta de valor que te hace falta para gritarle lo que te hiso y dejarlo morir solo. A ti todavía te acompaño, todos los días sobre la báscula, y después con la cinta de medir… también sujeto el cuchillo con el que partes todo a la mitad para después consumir solo la cuarta parte de la porción que te sirves. Y sigues cuidando con paciencia a tu tío que igual y pareciera un cerdo tirado en un chiquero, igual de gordo y color rosa con las caspas que se le caen… y lo sigues bañando y lo tocas con asco por ti y por él, pero te falta valor. No pasa nada, aquí estoy yo en las noches, durante el día, te amo y cada vez que te duele el vientre soy yo recordándote que vas bien. Tal vez te lleve conmigo, tal vez te atrevas a mirar fuera de la ventana e irte y dejarme aquí. Tal vez me olvides, pero soy fácil de olvidar… porque este amor que yo te tengo nadie más te lo va a dar, y así como me quieres a mí, nadie más te puede llenar el vacío que dejo yo.

– Ana

La llorona

I don’t remember her much … except that when she came in she kept pulling chunks off her pussy and yelling for her baby.

She was brought in on Christmas Eve. She was arrested for suffocating her 12 day old with a pillow because her constant crying stressed her out.

She called 911 and said “you need to come get me, I killed my baby and she still won’t stop crying”.

I remember the call because I filled in for a dispatch lady that day instead of working my regular duty as a booking officer at the county jail.

She spent 5 days in the violent cell, after she was brought in from the city jail. I had the pleasure of dragging her “schizo” shit-stained ass out of the transfer van into the booking area.

“Mi bebé!”.. I can still hear it after I found her hanging from the isolation cell 6 months ago. We never found out who gave her the chord, when they investigated, it was the chord from the phones we place in front of the food port so they can torture their families.

I don’t remember her much, except the night she came in she kept pulling her hair off and chunks of skin off her pussy yelling for her baby.

I also got to see the photos of the lifeless body of the new born, all purple from the lack of oxygen and the blood that came out of her little mouth that remained half open as though trying to catch the last piece of oxygen as the pillow was held over her delicate body. She seemed malnourished, even for a newborn. There were also other signs of abuse on her newborn body, scratches and burns on her little legs, a cigarette burn on the right buttock and lacerations on her back from a chord. Post partum depression they called it, she told her family she didn’t know what she was doing but her voice that night on the call seemed relieved … happy almost.

The night she came in she reeked of urine and armpits, she queefed a few times when we dragged her to the violent cell to keep her from slamming her head on a regular cinder block wall. I offered her water and she spat at me three times, after that I stopped asking. We had to keep her on constant suicide observation and I opened her cell window at least every 10 minutes throughout that 8 hour shift that Christmas Eve.

Merry christmas.. . I told her when the clock turned 12 as she was squatting, naked pinching at her pussy and screaming in some language I couldn’t understand.

Her skin was dark like cinnamon and the red bloody patches of thin skin laid plastered on the cell floor. She came from Haiti, her green eyes were cold and bright as she looked straight through my soul.

I called for back up, we pulled her out and placed her on a restraint chair …the kind with the straps… “devil’s chair” their call it, tonight it sure was. We strapped her in, over her face, a spit mask because she started hissing as we came near her, cursing, spitting and farting.

She had a tramp stamp of an upside down cross and some weird Greek lettering along her ribs …interesting.

Three days later she was in an isolation cell, eating and showering fine. She asked for the phone one night when I came to relieve the rover to go get coffee in the kitchen. Who could she possibly call? At 2 in the morning and on a Tuesday …I gave her the broken phone, the one with the chord that another crazy pulled out and we never turned in to fix because no one wanted to turn in a report or be questioned about broken county property. I walked away, left the food port open and turned the lights off in the hallway near her cell.

The following shift relieved us at 8 am, it was 8:15 when the call was made over the radio, I hadn’t walked out of the main gate yet and ran back inside. The adrenaline had my sore feet carry my tired legs up the stairs to the female dorm like the entire night hadn’t just happened. We ran in and there she was hanging from the shower door, limp and purple… a small trail of blood coming out of her mouth, her green eyes now in a pool of red like grapes floating in a Christmas bowl of sangria.

I can still hear a soft whisper “…mi-bebé…” when I walk by the back hallway of the isolation cells. It sounds like a statement, claiming the last of my peace of mind as the hairs in the back of my neck stab the air around me. I walk away slowly but surely that I don’t want to look back to recognize whatever is making that statement in the dark.

 

Bear-fucking-Gazelle

As her eyes wandered from top to bottom taking in his smell, she caught sight of the bear’s huge pink dick pulsating between his legs. The lack of fur around it made her lick her nose a little …she was breathing hard and peed a little. Not enough to drip, just enough to moist her little gazelle pussy…

This is the story of a dumbass Gazelle that didn’t like her dry land habitat. She wasn’t able to shrink her heart or liver like the rest of the here and she had poor coordination when it came to running.

One day the dumbass Gazelle wondered off into a different habitat, where the temperature wasn’t as dry and she didn’t need to run much…actually it was best not to run due to the thick trees in the forest.

In this forest she met a bear, not as scary looking as the other grizzly bears but still … a big, black, hairy mother fucker. His breath wasn’t as bad as the other bears because he wasn’t that great of a fisher… but he did eat berries and caught a few fish here and there that got stuck at the shallow end of the river.

The Gazelle was mesmerized at the size of the bear, she had never seen such a bizarre, majestic creature look so goddamn ugly and appealing at the same time. Now this dumbass Gazelle should have just looked and stayed away, instead her dumbass kept walking around near the mother fucking bear. It wasn’t like the bear was unaware of her presence, the dry land smell that emitted from her rear end, aroused him from the moment she stepped foot in the woods.

She stopped here and there touching the moss of trees with her nose, sinking her hoofs to the wet leaves on the ground and slipping on rocks here and there as she approached the river.

Out of luck the piece of shit bear finally caught a fish, the Gazelle stared amazed at the animosity in which he slammed the fish to a rock and then dropped it in his mouth and swallowed it whole.

He then stood on his two hind legs and wiped his mouth, her eyes watered with excitement as she tried to take the entire scene whole. As her eyes wandered from top to bottom taking in his smell, she caught sight of the bear’s huge pink dick pulsating between his legs. The lack of fur around it made her lick her nose a little …she was breathing hard and peed a little. Not enough to drip, just enough to moist her little gazelle vagina and weaken her long and slim gazelle legs.

She wasn’t afraid to get eaten, she wanted to be closer to that smell of fur, feces and testosterone that comes from a huge ass animal in heat. He smelled her too, that similar deer smell mixed with the loud flow of the river and a few lavender trees nearby. She got closer to him as he finally dropped on his four legs again. She walked around him, touched her wet nose to his thick, filthy fur. From left to the rear and back to the front again.

It almost seem like she would walk away, and she should have …back to her dry ass land where she worried about predators wanting to eat her and she just had to follow the herd and scatter after a few seconds. Instead she stayed, she let this big mother fucking best approach her as she stood with her back to him and spread her rear legs a little.

He didn’t need to do much more, he just stood in his back two hind legs and grabbed her closer to him…his big paws around her tight slim stomach with that thin layer of tan hair. He thrusted his huge cock inside her, her insider exploded immediately, her nose watered and her tongue stuck out. Her heart and liver didn’t shrink, they simply exploded right then and there as the pressure reached her head and her eyes turned a vivid red and the light left her eyes.

The bear went on thrusting, then diffing his paws into her stomach until he was left holding a bloody carcass dangling in his huge cock. He thought about eating it but most of his cum was mixed with her blood. He dropped the carcass carefully in the same spot as her anus and gazelle pussy had become one bloody mass that resembled lasagna.

With that, he took one last sniff at her limb body and then walked off into the woods slowly, blood still dripping from his erect penis and the flies already buzzing around her lifeless body.

Buddy fucker

No, not the friend you fuck on your time off or the one you make time to fuck when you don’t have time but you’re starting to really like.

I mean the asshole who fucks you over and continues to act like your friend. In the army I learned the term “blue falcon ” … why? The same acronyms are shared with the two.

I often think I have shitty friends, but then I remember the ones I rarely see and I feel I have the best friends I could ask for. Then it makes sense, they’re great friends because most of the time they leave me the fuck alone and we all live our lifes either great or not and then we meet once a year and praise each other’s mediocre accomplishments… or not.

It doesn’t have to be the gal that slept with your fiancé, or the guy who told your wife you were cheating … it’s not even the guy at work that made a sexual harassment complain behind your back about a porn picture you showed them on your work computer while they shared a blueberry muffin with you and snickered behind their hand to hide their blueberry smudged two front teeth… no, it’s not any of them. Those are a tad bit more tolerable than the asshole who calls you on your day off to tell you that they heard from your supervisor at the insurance company that you’re going on probation for a hospital bill you didn’t submit on a 5 month old claim.

The asshole that knows you haven’t had decent sleep in the past year because of your divorce and your father was diagnosed with leukemia, you lost your car and now use “lyft ” for almost everything and it’s the first full weekend you get in at least 4 months because you’re finally caught up . So now you’re standing in front of the mirror with your phone on speaker and half the side of your hair curled while your 6 year old is sitting on the bed begging you to hurry up so you can get him to the birthday party of the snobby kid in his class who happens to be his best friend. Whose mother you met at the fall festival and is the definition of perfect with her perfect body, face and hands and has a rich husband and has never worked a day in her life. She’s not the stuck up snob like that you can blow off and have an excuse not to talk to, she’s actually really fucking nice so you have to take your son to the party and wrap nicely the remote control car you paid too much at the mall for but you had to get because they gave your son an equally expensive toy at the gift exchange at school.

…the damn toy you bought that was very much your monthly bed payment but that you have to push back a few days so your kid can enjoy perhaps a normal life.

Fucking asshole, it seems like a gesture to warn you of the shit day you’ll have coming back to work but then again … why ruin my last day off with these news. I cut the call when my boy fell off the bed ..of course he busted his lip and chipped his tooth, and as my butt reflects on the mirror ..aaah there it is, my white pants completely ruined with mother’s nature that I may still be a woman. I felt the wetness earlier but I was thinking about the way my new desk neighbors penis was traced by his basketball shorts at the work gym when he was doing squats. Shit… don’t cry, don’t cry…