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So they write her up. She curses them out. Then they show her to the door.
Shit, her own family stopped fucking with her because of her attitude. Her sister and her mother, both have a restraining order against her. They literally want nothing to do with her ass.
Man, if that doesn’t scream craziness, I don’t know what does. I should have known then that there was something wrong with her. Nah, nah, if I’m really being honest, I should have known she had a screw loose when I saw her with a hammer chasing down some cat she used to mess with in broad daylight.
Dude was literally running through parking lots and around parked cars trying to get away from her, yelling for someone to “come get this crazy bitch.”
And the cops didn’t do shit.
But, nah, I still fucked with her. Let myself get caught up into thinking that she’d never come at me like that. Thinking my dick game—and the fact that I’m a good fucking man—would keep her satisfied.
But then I met the real Stephanie.
And now I know.
The bitch needs meds and a straitjacket.
No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, you can’t make a miserable bitch happy. Sadly, I’ve had to learn that shit the hard way.
Nine years too late!
I swear to you. If I could turn back the hands of time, I wouldn’t be in this shit. I would have fucked her, just to see if the pussy was as good as the word on the streets said it was, then kept it moving. Then again, I would have kept my hard dick in my draws, and run in the other direction. And I damn sure would have never married her.
But here I am.
Trapped.
And these last few years have been nothing but h-e-double-l.
Her sister and mother were smart as hell to cut her off, especially after I learned she’d pulled a knife out on her sister and threatened to slice her face, all because she didn’t like her sister telling her she was useless.
Well, shit. It’s the truth. She is fucking useless.
And I married her ass!
And it’s been a fucking nightmare trying to get rid of her. She’s like a fucking roach. You kill one, and five more appear.
All I can do is shake my head. And let her play victim all by herself.
In the beginning, I used to feel sorry for Stephanie when I didn’t know better, that is. But now I don’t feel shit. No. Scratch that. I do feel something. Disgust. This broad doesn’t do shit. Won’t cook. Won’t clean. Won’t even go out and get a fucking job. Or keep one. Some days, I don’t think she even washes her ass. Not that I’ve smelled her. She just always looks like a funky-ass mess to me.
Yet, she’s always so quick to call me stupid for only having a GED, then throw up in my face, to remind me, that she has a master’s degree; that she’s college educated. Like I give a fuck about her bullshit-ass degree.
Whoopty-fucking-doo!
I stare at her long and hard every time she starts talking that dumb shit, thinking, Yeah, bitch, whatever. So what, you went to college and got yourself a few degrees, you’re not doing shit with ’em. So that shit doesn’t mean shit if all they’re doing is collecting dust, or somewhere buried under a dresser drawer full of ugly-ass cotton panties and raggedy-ass bras.
Just because she can string a bunch of big words together doesn’t mean shit. Yeah, I dropped out of school, and got a GED instead. But I’m the one with a job. I’m the one with a pension. I’m the one with a few dollars stashed. I’m the one with good credit. And Stephanie’s ass can’t get shit. So who’s really the stupid one here?
This educated bitch is.
The only thing she will do is, keep her feet and nails done and make sure our daughter’s hair is combed and she’s dressed and ready for school. Other than that, she doesn’t do shit. Well, except sit on her ass and be all up on Facebook and Instagram, practically all fucking day, while watching shit she’s taped on DVR, burning up unnecessary electricity. And if she’s not doing that, then she’s got her face pressed into the pages of some nasty fuck-book.
I don’t know why the fuck she’s reading that nasty shit for ’cause it’s not like she’s ever tried to do any of that shit she’s reading with me. Hell, maybe if she would have done more sucking and fucking and less shit popping, we might have still had a shot at making shit work.
But not now.
And thanks to her always being parked in the same spot day in, and day out, we have a lopsided sofa and a cushion with her ass print stamped in it.
