‘Normal’ childhood? - Part Three - The Bat and the Broom

Be sure to read part one and part two before this one

At the ripe age of about 9, and after causing some sort of stink at the dinner table, I was sent to my room while everyone else finished their dinner and had their ice cream.

Now, we lived in an old Victorian house and my room, the one that I shared with B1 was on the top floor …the converted attic.

Sitting up there sulking on the edge of my bed, wondering if I could coerce B2 to sneak me up some ice cream after dinner, I was startled by a freaking bird flying right through my open window. As it zipped back and forth around my room, spinning in circles, seemingly very disoriented, this ‘bird’ swooped down and got its feet caught in my hair.

Pause for image of said hair. (and maybe a bit of laughter)

Completely freaking out, running in circles, yelling for my mother and flinging my arms up to try to dislodge this hair intruder….I hear my mother yelling up the stairs, “I told you to be quiet up there…or you’ll stay up there all night!”

Continuing my cries for help, my mother stormed her way up to my room, cursing me enough so that I did not know who to be more scared of…this beast clawing at my head…or the one about to bust through my bedroom door with a belt.

A second later my mother burst though my door, with belt in hand and a lung full of air to scream at me. Upon seeing the flapping, tangled mess that was once my head, she screamed, “BAT!” and swiftly ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Shocked that A. It was a bat in my hair and not a bird…and B. that my mother would run out and just leave me there. I continued screaming and running around the room. A minute or so later she barged back into my room…armed with a broom. She march straight at me and began bashing me on the head with the broom…worried more so about hitting the bat than the structural integrity of my cranium. Once she successfully knocked the bat loose from my hair she dragged my whimpering body out of the room (as if I were a wounded soldier being saved by a war hero) and slammed the door once again.

After pleading with the man that lived next door, the bat was evicted from my room. The story ends with a haircut appointment for me early the next morning.

As the stories are seemingly endless…I’ll continue with another next time – Military Training

all for a carton of smokes

As many of you know…or can tell…I have not had what most would refer to as a ‘normal’ life.

This is a story that changed a lot within me and will never be forgotten.

From early in the day, the cellblock was busier but quieter than usual. This always happens when something big is coming. The quiet before the storm. The Black and Latino gangs seemed to have more distance between them than usual. As the day drifted on there was a lot of quick meetings and whispering happening within the gangs. The rec yard and mess hall were tense, yet uneventful, which was far from typical. Looking down from the third floor balcony, the common room looked like a pair of hypnotic eyeglasses, swirling groups of people on either side and a few misplaced guards in between.

Gangs in lock up are simple yet complex. They can be quite large but only the top three have any say on what happens that day. Many have no interest in being in a gang, or taking part in the insane schemes, yet protection…a family is an unavoidable need.

It was about 8PM when there seemed to be a lot more scampering around. The volume on the TV was turned up as the Latino leader and his 2 under-bosses emerged from their “office.” Simple gestures by him sent the Latino soldiers on their missions. As a group of about 15 men all converged on the level one balcony, the lookouts began signaling. There seemed to instantly 2 dozen Black soldiers surrounding the Latinos. At first there was just a lot of tough looks, talk and pushing going on. The tension was high, it felt as if it were 100 degrees on the block. The looks on everyone’s faces were looks of fear and confusion mix with honor and duty – reminiscent of soldiers on a battlefield. With another nod from the leader everything seemed to start moving in slow motion. 3 men entered a cell. Outside it was like a scrimmage line on a football field. Hitting and pushing with nobody gaining ground. Moving nearer, There were glimpses of a fellow block-mate backing into the corner of his cell, with his comrades unable to help him. The sight was frightening, even though he was the enemy.

As the muffled calls for help emerged from the cell, it was clear to everyone that his time had come. There seemed to be a slight pause before the view of stabbing motions filled the cell. All watched quietly as the victors emerged from the cell with blood-soaked hands. Quickly, with tear-glazed eyes, the sight of people running, weapons disappearing and smiles from the balcony were seen. It was clear that many involved were filled with hidden emotions. Beneath the smiles and cheers, it was easy to see the fear and sadness. Returning to the cells, hearing the jingling of keys on the guards’ belts as they ran into the block, everyone laid in their bunks, closed their eyes…all this for a carton of smokes.

I Am SOOOOOOOOOOO DEAD!!!!!!!!

I am completely freaked the fuck out right now!!! I woke up about 30 minutes ago from a horrifying nightmare. I don’t know where I was but I was being attacked by birds. They kept swooping down and pecking at my head and face. It was all that I could do to swat them away. I was able to catch a few as they came in, and would just twist their heads around until I felt them snap. After taking out a half dozen or so, I saw a huge flock flying in….and that is when I woke up.

But when I did…I found Mariah’s bird Sammy…dead….in a crumpled pile next to me.

WHAT THE FUCK DO I DO? Mariah is out back with her grandmother and has been since early this morning….she must have brought the bird up to our room earlier and…. OH SHIT! I don’t know what I am going to say to her when she gets in. SHIT FUCK!!!!!



APRIL FOOLS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What Is A Dad To Do?

Is it just me or does the way that people dress really get under your skin too? I was going to write this post as after seeing some freakingly jacked up outfits…on grown women today.

I don’t understand it. Do people not own mirrors? Are they so stupid that they honestly think that wearing shit that makes people stare…is going to make them some sort of trend setter or fashion guru? I guess part of it is where I live, but I can honestly tell you that I feel the vomit lurching its way up into the back of my mouth just from driving down the street.

My subject today will be the fashion of today’s teenager. FUCK, SHIT, ASS, PUKE…fuck…I just peed on myself.

First of all, when it comes to boys, I can’t stand sagging! It is the stupidest thing that I’ve ever seen. And what the fuck is with boys wearing skinny jeans? Are they trying to look like girls? Do they want to carry a purse?....cuz there is no freaking way they can get shit into any of the pockets of those ridiculous creations….even if they got some change in the pocket…they’d have to strip down to pull anything out.

Now…Girls…WTF? Are girls everywhere dressing like they do here?
Ugg boots
Short shorts (so short that if they don’t continually pull at the leg holes…their privates start finding their freedom.)
Tight, open top shirts that show their belly piercings while molding around their developing breasts.

Now in these outfits; they cannot jump, run, squat, climb stairs or sit down…without all of their ‘junk’ waving to the world…in all of its teenybopper glory.
Not to mention the fucking glitter!!!! Damn…I just puked on my desk.

I would not mind if it were just a few random sluts…whatever…but it is EVERYFUCKINGONE! Girls with serious boyfriends, the jocks, the loners, even the freakin preacher’s daughters.

Then…they walk down the street, prancing like flock (?) of fucking gazelle…and get pissed when all of the teen boys stare and gesture for their attention.

Yes…It gets worse. I, as a (Hot Dad) father of a teenage girl, have to walk like the new guy in prison…or a white boy with a fancy car in the middle of South Central. I see the way that people look at her, old men, young boys, even the disapproving looks from women. At any minute I feel that I might have to throw down with random strangers.

I HATE the way she/they dress and I know her…not a slut, has a serious boyfriend, responsible, good student, respectful and respected…but this new found fashion for these girls makes me ill. Why do it? There is no need for it. I have throw away clothing that I could no longer stomach…but it was soon replaced by something worse.

And they get it from impecable role models...like ...

Barring hiring a security guard to walk with her at all times…or forcing her to wear overalls everyday…what is a dad to do?

HELP ME!!!!!!!

3 Fucking Years!!!!!!

You ever have something that you really want to do (for many reasons) and you just can’t seem to get it done…no matter how hard you try?

Well that is MY LIFE!

As you all know…I married the wrong bitch-ass, cunt, troll, psycho person the first time around. We separated in September of 2005 and the divorce proceedings started shortly afterward.

Now…3 FUCKING YEARS LATER…I still can’t seem to get the freakin troll off my back!

I love my two young boys (who live with their motherfucker) to death…but I want the legal issues to be finalized so that there is no more back and forth and we can all move on.
I fell in love with Mariah (Insane Mama) and her kids…I want to marry her, but I can’t until my divorce is finalized.
I want to be able to get along ok with mongoloid cunt…but she is a nasty, backstabbing piece of shit…and I have to say that I’ve had some pretty evil thoughts about her…and her well being…and continue to find myself smiling after each thought.

How can a divorce case last more than 3 years when there is no fight over money or property? Well…let me tell you:

She has ‘changed’ lawyers 4 times…each time the new one would be granted a continuance.
She has come to every court appearance with long lists of accusations, which the judge (by law) has to examine.
She makes a point to state at every opportunity that she will not agree to, but is willing to ‘discuss’ overnight visits down the road…knowing that that is what I want…so we have to go back to court and fight again.

On another note….but about as frustrating…I had this throat problem since last December, where I irritatingly clear my throat every 5 minutes or so…EVERY DAY!!! At first I thought that I was just a bit sick, then tried some random over the counter meds that by reading them I thought might work. Then I went to see my Dr. who told me that it must be an allergy….although the allergist and blood work up that I had done said that I am not allergic to anything. My doc put me on Zyrtec D and the shit stopped…after about 2 weeks…but in the meantime…I got a cold and now, although not clearing my throat…I can’t get rid of my hacking cough. Just another thing that I just can’t seem to have ‘closure’ with.

TALK ABOUT PEEING IN THE WIND!

That F'er Is Gonna Die!

I am not a violent kind of guy (well, except if you drive too slow on the highway, hold up the line at the grocery store, wear clothes that are obviously NOT YOUR SIZE…well you know what I mean) I am just not the violent type.

I love nature and all that comes with it (for the most part.) The line, for me, is usually drawn at bugs that ATTACK me…and by attack, I mean fly near my face or land on me. I take that as an act of aggression. Anyway… Living with Insane Mama, who loves all living things, I have learned to extend nature’s creatures an added luxury, the luxury of living if she can scoop them up and remove them from my “personal space.”

Now, on to the main topic. I am a guy who will actually admit that he enjoys hearing animals in nature, coyotes in the distance, ocean waves crashing, crickets chirping, birds singing, etc. …until recently, that is. Being summer and fairly warm here in Southern California, we usually leave our windows open, day and night, letting the cool ocean breeze flow through the house.

A few months ago, Insane Mama and I would sit out in our front yard watching mom and dad Mockingbird, fighting off a gnarly band of crows in an attempt to protect their new family nesting in a tree in the yard. We’d sit there and cheer for the Mockingbirds. (we hate the crows.) That went on for a few weeks and the Mockingbirds did quite well in fending off the evil crows. We were then very happy to have this family of rough and tumble creatures taking up residence on our property.

These days…there is only one Mockingbird around…don’t know what happened to the others…but …well….let me explain. At 11PM EVERY night, this bird proceeds to (I will not call it sing) Destroy the night with a barrage of a set of about 8 different bird calls (chirping, tweeting and whistling) at the top of it’s lungs. Normally I would not mind, but this banter goes on from 11PM until sunrise…and never during the day. This intrusive noise is so bad that even from its roost in the front yard, I can hear it over the volume of the TV at the back of the house.

I and our teen have been driven completely mad with this F’ing irritating creature. I comment to Insane Mama on a regular basis about it and she responds with, “Let the poor thing be. He is probably lost or something.” I’ve been holding off on any military action and did so as long as I could. The other night it just got under my skin to a point where I just could not take it any longer. I ran down stairs into Cody’s room, found his sling shot and proceeded to the front door. As I set foot on the front walk, the bird went silent. This stupid, shit-ass bird was some sort of mind reader and knew that there was only one reason for me to be in the front yard at midnight, dressed in fatigues and holding a slingshot and a handful of rocks.

I actually sat my old, tired ass in a bush (one with a clear view of the tree that was hosting the little F’er.) Sitting in a bush at midnight after having a few beers was not the ideal situation for me. I sat there for about 15 minutes. It was like I was a sniper in a war and I would lie in wait longer than my target….”do or die little birdie!!!!” Finally, it started up again. At first I could not tell the exact location of the pesky thing and did not want to spray rocks all other the neighbor’s house – might be hard to explain to the police…alcohol, fatigues, sling shot, middle of night…you get the picture. Then I saw…branches slightly move. I honed my eyes on that very spot and continued to wait. (legs cramping, I had to burp, hard to focus eyes, etc) then there was movement again. Stealthily slipping a rock into the leather of my weapon and slowly extending the projectile…I gave one last check of my aim and let the rock fly. Listening intently, I heard the rock whiz through the tree hitting a few branches…and then the roof of the neighbor’s house. Shit I hope I don’t have to wait another 15 minutes for this thing to move again. I didn’t…a second later it moved again….and started singing. I think it was singing…”you suck…you have no aim…you old fat fart!”

I reloaded and with every bit of precision that I could muster, sent another rock into the tree, this time hitting something that did not sound like tree…it was a bit more hollow. I remained in my sniper position to see if there would be any further enemy movement. I waited about 2 or three minutes…there was nothing. My eyes widened, huge grin on my face….I stood up. In my head telling myself, “I knew I should have been a sniper.” It was too dark for me to search the area for splattered bird at that point so I jumped out of the bush and ran inside, dropping my weapon and ammo on the ground as I entered. I raced upstairs and banged on teen’s door (I knew she was up by the reflection of the TV under her door.) As she turned her head to me, I blurted out, “I killed that freaking Mockingbird. She smiled and gave me a high five. I then went into my room, slipped out of my fatigues and curled up with Insane Mama with a sense of complete accomplishment…and slept very well that night.

The next morning I rushed outside to marvel at my fallen enemy…but could not find any trace of him. Maybe the crows and a raccoon made off with him… there was nothing but I still did not hear any sign of that bastard. I was satisfied.