Friday, February 25, 2011

i handled it

i frequently (maybe too frequently) joke in here about how much my kids aggravate me. it is a fact of my nature, and the nature of a parent/child relationship in general. and my way of handling stress is to joke. and raising kids is a big stress under the best of circumstances.

but i like to think that if you, the beloved non-existent readers, have been reading here regularly for anything longer than a few months, you will know that i really love my kids and my wife. i also like to think that you know that despite being verbally very violent on occasion in this blog, i am a big softie.

you will also know, however, that i have a thick core of raw kiss-my-ass steel and battery acid.

and i will not let anyone fuck with my family.

now, a few months ago, no. 1 got off the bus very upset. crying, in fact. i asked what was wrong, and he replied that [worthless waste of sperm and egg future serial killer] was telling him that he, [serial killer], was saying on the bus that he had escaped from jail after killing a manatee and a cop.

now, i think i handled this bit of info improperly. i told no. 1 that [sociopath] was a jabbering little idiot in need of a.) attention, and b.) some good adhd medication, and that no. 1 should not believe anything he said, and do his very best to ignore him, or at the very least, not get upset at the twaddle that this puling little whelp shat out of his gob.

in a way, no. 1 took my advice, as today when he was recounting what this kid had said, he seemed almost scarily calm.

"um, dad, you know what [check the crawl space for bodies] said today? he said that on my birthday he is gonna kill mom."

the record skips, everything on the planet gets immediately cut down to super slow motion.

"he said what?"

no. 1 repeats back exactly what he had just said again.

if i had not needed to immediately get no. 2 to a therapy appointment, i would've been at this slug slime's parent's door. lucky for me, and no. 1, and them even, i had that appointment.

in the car i tell no. 1 not to sit by this syphilitic boil anymore. i tell him i will talk to his parents. i tell him i will talk to the bus driver, and make sure she knows he is not to be anywhere near either of my kids. i tell him that if this kid ever tried anything with my wife, she'd fuck his world up beyond his ability to comprehend.

the drive, and hour long appointment work in my favor in several ways. i text my friend that lives on the same cul-de-sac as the offender and his family, and make sure i am thinking of the right kid. she confirms, and even says i am not the first parent with complaints about this diseased little pustule. i also get extremely angry. something i am gonna need to tackle this situation just as it needs to be tackled. but i also get extremely calm. something that ended up working to my advantage when i finally stood on these people's front porch.

i told no. 1 to let me do the talking, and i had to remind him a couple times. i was firm. i didn't want the parents of this larva to see me being wishy washy with my own kids. when i pulled up, the dad is sitting on the porch, and it is like he already knows something is up. so do his kids, who come over from playing catch, and his wife, who appears at the door from somewhere inside the house. even the neighbor kids come over, standing around in a semithreatening semicircle.

there we are, me and my boys, like last stand at the ok corral.

when i explain why i am there, he says, "well, that sure doesn't sound like anything [jeffrey dahmer] would say." (it never sounds like something our sweet little angels would say, does it, o my beloved non-existent readers? so many parents own property on a river in egypt.) and his diseased hole of a wife says the same thing, attempting to imply my kid made it up.

i say, in a no uncertain terms kinda way, say, "well, it sure isn't something no. 1 would make up."

the putrescent womb that shat out this gobbet of rotten okra is so incensed she declares this whole conversation "bullshit" and both of them are insisting that unless an adult can collaborate my story, it didn't happen.

of course their lying pond scum of a son denies it completely. even before he knows what he is accused of (which i point out in a voice that cuts through the other chatter happening around me.) they call in the boy who sits next to [john wayne gacey], and he says that the kid talks to my son, but he doesn't know what he says. we drive down two more cul-de-sacs to find the girl who sits next to no. 1. the mom has declared my kid "fucked up" and gone inside. but the dad is gonna ride this thing to its end, either to rub my face in it, or (i like to think) because he secretly knows that this shite is, in fact, the sort of thing his cesspool of a kid would say.

the girl who sits next to my son is older, and a bit of a chatterbox. i ask if her mom can come out so that her mom can kind of chaperone the conversation, and once her mom figures out exactly what's going on, she kind of keeps her daughter reigned in.

the girl says that the only one who really messes with my son is [ted bundy], and that he does in fact say some "sorta mean things." it is clear she doesn't want to say what sorts of things exactly. but after we tell her we need to know, and without any prompting at all, she says, embarrassed, "he said like he would kill no. 1's mom."

the father says he'll handle it.

i take my kids home, and tell no. 1 good job, and thanks for telling me.

now that it is over, i stand in the kitchen fucking shaking with rage. i smoke. i text my wife. i fill in the friend that lives on that circle on the outcome.

but, o my beloved non-existent readers, my droogs and only friends, i handled it. i never swore. i never implied that their kid was "fucked up" like that female goat had done about my own son. i never implied anything about him matter of fact except that he had said this to my son, and that i wasn't going to back down in the face of their apathy and hostility.

and i still won't. not sure what the long-term repercussions of this will be, but i am ready, and i am readying my kids.

because you do not fuck with my family.

darth sardonic

Labels: , , ,


Post a Comment

<< Home