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I sighed. “I don’t know why you keep referring to that hoe and bastard as my parents. I don’t have parents.” The slut just didn’t get it. “Anyway, like I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Jon wouldn’t have a leg to stand on without me. Don’t go throwing a pity party for her ass. You should be celebrating the fact that I exist.”
“But the two of you can’t coexist together.”
“And why the hell not? We’ve been coexisting all this time.”
“Because that’s not healthy.”
“So what are you saying?” I asked, getting pissed off all over again. The bitch had lost her mind and I told her, “If you think I’m going someplace, you need a psychiatrist your damn self.”
She was determined to try to bond with me. The slut. “Jude, tell me about yourself.”
I shrugged and said, “There’s nothing to tell. I put foot to ass when need be, protect Jon from people that try to fuck her over without grease, and I love to have fun from time to time.”
“What kind of fun?” she asked.
“I’ll be honest. I love fucking. Fucking is the only thing worth doing in this life.”
Marcella seemed bewildered. Good, I’d finally stumped her. “Do you honestly believe that?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Men are such wimps. They always fold under the pressure of the pussy. I like controlling them like the little puppy dogs that they are.”
“That’s the word I was looking for,” she said.
“What word?” I inquired with disdain.
“Control. You want to control things.”
I stood up and leaned over the desk. “Don’t get it twisted. I do control things. I’m always around. I just let Jon deal with normal day-to-day bullshit so I don’t have to. If I wanted to, I could take over for good and never, ever let Jon come back. That’s how dominant I am.”
Marcella smiled at me. “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“Excuse me, bitch?”
“If you could truly take over for good, you would’ve done it years ago.”
“You’re beginning to bore me.” I didn’t like the way the conversation was headed. She didn’t know shit about anything and to top it off, she wasn’t shit to me so I announced, “I’m leaving.”
I had made it to the door and opened it when she jumped in front of me.
“No, don’t leave yet.”
I poked her in the shoulder. “If you don’t move out of my way, I will give you a beatdown you’ll never forget.”
“Jude, we really need to continue this conversation.”
“I’m going to count to three and then I’m swinging,” I told her. “One.”
“Jude, please stay,” she pleaded.
I balled my right hand into a fist. “Two.”
“When can we talk again?” she asked.
“Three,” I said and lifted my fist to steal her one in the face.
