When my ex-husband Kevin and I bought our first house we were so excited. But then Kevin got called up for active duty, leaving me alone in a new home with our daughter Darla, who was only 5 at the time. I wasn't very comfortable with the idea, but we didn't have a choice. Unfortunately my instincts were right! That hundred-year-old dump was haunted as shit!
I'd originally set up the master bedroom in the back of the house, but there was something really wrong with that space. At night I'd have trouble sleeping because I was hearing deep whispering voices accompanied by a chill breeze, and a strange smell like a burnt up wig. Sometimes I'd be woken up from what felt like a cold hard slap across my tits.
My daughter Darla slept more deeply than I did, so I made her move in there. On the very first night she came into my room at around 3 a.m. crying about nightmares and asking to sleep in my bed. I said, "No ma'am!". I sent her right back in and locked the door from the outside. Sorry, but I didn't need her "bringing something back" while I was trying to get my rest!
After about a week I noticed that she was developing strange fears, like fear of the dark, and mirrors, and teeth, and her bedroom. I had to figure out something before things got any worse. I went out and bought a Ouija board. I kept asking questions and hurling insults, but as soon as the little oracle started to move around in response I would toss it off the board so the spirits wouldn't get a chance to speak. Then I just burned the board.
Darla kept a complaining about hearing voices and getting shoved around, so I went online to look for answers. I discovered a method that sounded just crazy enough to work. I called in a favor from a friend at the morgue who scored me a jug full of blood that he'd drained from a dead whore. I baptized my daughter in that room with the blood, surrounded by decorative black candles. I couldn't believe it, but it worked! Things were calm for several nights in a row! I immediately put the house on the market, and it was sold within a week to another unsuspecting young couple.
What's really weird is how I forgot all about this experience until just the other day. I was browsing through Target when a frail, elderly woman came around the corner of an aisle and gazed with worry into my eyes. The she leaned forward a bit, grabbed my wrist, and dry-heaved. She looked up, pointed at me with her other hand and said, "I know what you did in that house! You've cursed your daughter for all her life!".
After the initial shock I yelled, "Fuck that!!".
"Your horrible deed that night led to her miscarriage!", she scolded. I didn't know what else to say, so I just yanked my arm loose and hurried back up the aisle. She hollered after me, "She'll never be free! And that family you sold the house to? They're all dead!". I could not believe she had the nerve to say that. What a crazy old bitch!
_
Thursday, March 25
Wednesday, March 17
The curse of St. Pat!
I was lucky enough to inherit my beautiful head of red hair from my grandfather, a hardworking Irish immigrant. He always used to say that I had, "a merry bit of Ireland" in my eyes. He passed away when I was very young, but I never forgot about him. And I was delighted when I discovered that my first child, Darla, was born with his same smile!
As y'all know, it was my mom who took care of Darla for the first few months of her life. Mother was terribly upset when I swooped in later and took Darla away with me to live. She told me that it wasn't fair to either of them, after letting her get attached. I told her, "Too bad, bitch! It's MY baby!". It was pretty hardcore.
Like all young mothers, I loved my baby as much as I loved to party! So naturally I was pissed when St. Patrick's Day rolled around and I couldn't find a babysitter (I wouldn't give Mother the satisfaction!). Rather than be stuck at home I just decided to take Darla out on the town with me. She wasn't looking very festive as a brunette, so I dyed her hair orange and bought her a green-lettered "Party Till You Puke!" onesie.
It actually worked out great because drunk people love babies! Folks were buying me drinks and we were dancing and having a great time. As the night wore on I had bar hopped until there weren't any more bars to hop to. Little Darla was passed out on my shoulder like an angel. As I strolled back to my apartment I heard some janky ho calling me from a nearby stoop. She coughed and asked me if I wanted to huff some green paint! I'd never tried that before, so I did.
Of course being a lightweight at the time, I couldn't handle my fumes! I got dizzy as shit and could barely stop myself from getting sick. I stumbled for a block or two, but couldn't go any further. I laid Darla down on the trunk of a parked car and sat down on the curb so I could put my head between my knees. As the nausea subsided a bit I heard a car door slam shut.
As I opened my eyes I noticed that the parked car was driving off with Darla on it! Thank god there was a red light at the next intersection. I managed to grab her just before she rolled off! The driver noticed something was up and got out of the car. I panicked. All I could think to do was to grab a hunk of loose asphalt from the gutter and throw it at his head! I heard him scream out as I hurried back up the one-way street.
As if that weren't enough, I ended up getting stuck in the apartment with my baby for several days because the police told the newspaper and local TV stations that they were looking for a crazed woman with green paint on her mouth carrying an orange baby. Take it from me kids and don't mess around with spray paint. That crap does not want to wash off!
.
As y'all know, it was my mom who took care of Darla for the first few months of her life. Mother was terribly upset when I swooped in later and took Darla away with me to live. She told me that it wasn't fair to either of them, after letting her get attached. I told her, "Too bad, bitch! It's MY baby!". It was pretty hardcore.
Like all young mothers, I loved my baby as much as I loved to party! So naturally I was pissed when St. Patrick's Day rolled around and I couldn't find a babysitter (I wouldn't give Mother the satisfaction!). Rather than be stuck at home I just decided to take Darla out on the town with me. She wasn't looking very festive as a brunette, so I dyed her hair orange and bought her a green-lettered "Party Till You Puke!" onesie.
It actually worked out great because drunk people love babies! Folks were buying me drinks and we were dancing and having a great time. As the night wore on I had bar hopped until there weren't any more bars to hop to. Little Darla was passed out on my shoulder like an angel. As I strolled back to my apartment I heard some janky ho calling me from a nearby stoop. She coughed and asked me if I wanted to huff some green paint! I'd never tried that before, so I did.
Of course being a lightweight at the time, I couldn't handle my fumes! I got dizzy as shit and could barely stop myself from getting sick. I stumbled for a block or two, but couldn't go any further. I laid Darla down on the trunk of a parked car and sat down on the curb so I could put my head between my knees. As the nausea subsided a bit I heard a car door slam shut.
As I opened my eyes I noticed that the parked car was driving off with Darla on it! Thank god there was a red light at the next intersection. I managed to grab her just before she rolled off! The driver noticed something was up and got out of the car. I panicked. All I could think to do was to grab a hunk of loose asphalt from the gutter and throw it at his head! I heard him scream out as I hurried back up the one-way street.
As if that weren't enough, I ended up getting stuck in the apartment with my baby for several days because the police told the newspaper and local TV stations that they were looking for a crazed woman with green paint on her mouth carrying an orange baby. Take it from me kids and don't mess around with spray paint. That crap does not want to wash off!
.
Thursday, March 11
Little punks!
My son Brandon has always been a bit of a loner. He's not really into stuff that the other boys are into, like sports and breaking things. I've tried my best with him, but no matter what I do he keeps quietly reading books and listening to all kind of pussy music on the local "indie" radio station. Well now I've got some new concerns, mostly with this new group of friends he's been hanging out with.
Now I realize these boys are just fourth graders, but I get the feeling that they're up to no good! One of them is named Matt, and they all love to hang out at his house because it's close to the school and his mom doesn't care that they like to play outside all the time (even though I called her and told her that they're safer inside). She also lets them play Guitar Hero even though that music is full of bad messages and satanic stuff that their minds aren't ready for.
Another thing that bothers me is how they all dress like little preppies in clothes that look like they came from The Gap. To me there's just something wrong with a kid that doesn't want to dress like a schizophrenic homeless person. Brandon insists that their parents make them wear that stuff but I'm not so sure. They look a little too comfortable in those khakis.
I've also been noticing that a couple of them spike their hair up like little jerks, and sometimes wear bracelets or necklaces that are supposedly made for boys. Thankfully Brandon already knows better than to wear that kind of stuff. Hopefully before he's tempted to try anything like that he'll remember how I grounded him for a month during Summer vacation when I caught him drinking out of one of the pink tumblers from the cupboard.
But what's really weird about his little pals is how they really mind their parents, and they all get pretty good grades. That's just not normal for 9-year-olds! It's been rubbing off on Brandon too. He been even more serious lately about things like his homework and his manners. It's driving me nuts! I'm starting to suspect that one of his little asshole friends is slipping him some A.D.D. medication or something. If this crap keeps up I'm going to forbid him from playing with those boys (at least until he graduates elementary school).
_
Now I realize these boys are just fourth graders, but I get the feeling that they're up to no good! One of them is named Matt, and they all love to hang out at his house because it's close to the school and his mom doesn't care that they like to play outside all the time (even though I called her and told her that they're safer inside). She also lets them play Guitar Hero even though that music is full of bad messages and satanic stuff that their minds aren't ready for.
Another thing that bothers me is how they all dress like little preppies in clothes that look like they came from The Gap. To me there's just something wrong with a kid that doesn't want to dress like a schizophrenic homeless person. Brandon insists that their parents make them wear that stuff but I'm not so sure. They look a little too comfortable in those khakis.
I've also been noticing that a couple of them spike their hair up like little jerks, and sometimes wear bracelets or necklaces that are supposedly made for boys. Thankfully Brandon already knows better than to wear that kind of stuff. Hopefully before he's tempted to try anything like that he'll remember how I grounded him for a month during Summer vacation when I caught him drinking out of one of the pink tumblers from the cupboard.
But what's really weird about his little pals is how they really mind their parents, and they all get pretty good grades. That's just not normal for 9-year-olds! It's been rubbing off on Brandon too. He been even more serious lately about things like his homework and his manners. It's driving me nuts! I'm starting to suspect that one of his little asshole friends is slipping him some A.D.D. medication or something. If this crap keeps up I'm going to forbid him from playing with those boys (at least until he graduates elementary school).
_
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)