To dave, my teddy bear and wolfrider

Have no fear. I will go back to writing erotica. I have been writing about my real life this week. I got attacked by a troll in a skirt who has an obsession with rotten smelling pussy. It started when he said I had the most boring profile on xhamster. It cracked me up since I have hundreds of photos of myself and my artwork. I also write a daily blog when I have medicine. Very few men and women read it on a consistent basis.

I write for three men. My teddybear, wolfrider and dave. When you have three amazing men you are complete. I welcome new friends to leave a comment and enter my life. Yet it is not necessary. I would like to dedicate this blog to wolfrider. He made the comment he would kill the troll and do fifty years for me. That is a true friend. It is time to discuss prison and my darkest hour. Like all of my blogs there is a bright side and a happy ending.

I will go back to a former blog where I discussed busting open my boyfriend’s lip with no provocation. It is time to learn why. It all started because my former best friend was dating my cousin. He was using her for a place to live. She was fat. When I met her she was almost six feet tall and three hundred fifty pounds. She has her own story. Her name is laura. She broke up with my cousin and we went to our bar to celebrate. That night changed my life.

Many men think I am beautiful. Back then I was pretty damn ugly. I was fifty pounds overweight. The biggest issue was my alopecia which means I have a receding hair line like an old man. I didn’t know how easy and fun it is to wear wigs. I had low self-esteem. That night at the bar was strange. The most adorable barely 23 year old boy started hitting on laura. He became one of my best friends. His name was tony. For whatever reason despite being cute as a button he only wanted fat chicks. The fatter the better.

Now, I understand the love affair for BBW’s. Back then I thought laura won the golden ticket to wonka land. He busted out a fat load of cash and started buying her drinks. His friend was obligated to sit at our table. He was pretty fucking cute. I love cheesy shit. He was wearing this godforsaken cowboy hat. It put me at ease that he was a good country boy. He didn’t start a conversation with me. I have always had balls even when I was ugly. The first thing I said to him was ‘will you buy me a drink?’ I should’ve had a clue because he said ‘tony I need five bucks.’ I started drinking my beer.

Laura was like a cat in heat. She pulled me to the side and said ‘we have to leave now or I’m going to fuck this boy.’ She was serious. I am a weird chick. Even though I am not a Christian when I find one I keep a pocket sized bible in my purse. The bible is very special to me. If I need answers I can open it and the right verse is always there. I also keep sharpies on me at all times to doodle. I felt bad because I only had three sips of the beer I made him buy. I ripped out a bible page and gave him my number. I never expected him to call.

The next evening he called. He was so polite it would shock you. He invited me over for a beer and I went. He looked so much better without the hat. We sat on the bench in front of his mom’s house and started talking. He realized I smoked pot and he was happy. As we smoked he said ‘I have something to tell you.’ I was ready for anything except what he busted out with. ‘I’m a nazi.’ I was mortified. I would normally pour my beer on him, declare myself a nigger fucker and haul ass.

I decided to be polite and finish my drink. Then he told me his story. I know it so well and found out so many details. He was a really good k** in an advanced program to learn how to be a pilot. He had been a boy scout. He was small for his age. He had so much love for his mom. He was f******n or younger. He made a huge mistake. I dated all the death metal boys in town. My chick friend knows more about death metal than anyone on earth. We lived at cannibal corpse and morbid angel shows. That is another story.

I am a hot chick and at each show the boys from our town fixated on me. I was too busy playing with older men. I knew the two boys from his neighborhood that he invited over. They have their own stories that involve me. Ben was his name but I call him the nazi. He got drunk for the first time in his life with my two metal boys. It ruined his life. He didn’t know they thought he was a tiny pecker head dork. They got him passed out and then they had their fun.

You have to understand a lot about metal involves total destruction. They destroyed everything in his house. I don’t know the extent of the damage but I know it was so epically bad his mother made a huge mistake. She found him passed out alone in total devastation. I talked to her about it. If she could go back in time she would just beat him bloody with a bat and not let him leave the house for a year. She didn’t believe him that two other boys did the damage. She could’ve pressed charges on them easily. She was a deputy and she blamed her son and called the police.

She didn’t know the ramifications. Most boys can do a few days in juvie. The nazi was very smart. He was pissed off at his mother. At first it was easy. He walked right out of the door. He got picked up and sent to another facility. There is no telling how many times he walked out of the door. Then he went to a more secure place. He watched a fox get through a fence. I saw pictures of him at that age. He was that small. He got through the fence. He may have been fifteen by this point. He escaped so many times he knew what to do. He learned in boy scouts how to hunt a rabbit, start a fire and cook it. He lived off the land when he was free.

He could never resist going home or calling his mother. He went to a secure facility for problem teens. He was getting beat and he joined a Mexican gang and got his first jail house tattoo. He was really smart and little. He managed to build a paper ladder. He scaled a wall in the courtyard and squeezed through a tiny window. He lived off the land until he called his mother. He got sent to the most secure juvie system in florida. He didn’t tell me how he did it. He didn’t know what a huge mistake it was. If you break out of prison do not use a key.

During a transport he had a handcuff key in his mouth and he escaped again. People don’t realize how much is at stake based on what judge you go in front of. He was still just fifteen and he weighed around a hundred pounds. He got the wrong judge. Most k**’s in juvie get out at eighteen with no harm done. He had such a record for escaping the judge decided to teach him a lesson. He was sentenced to an adult maximum security prison for five years. He went into shock. This all started with thirty days in camp for delinquents. Suddenly he had five years in the most secure and notorious prison in the state of florida.

He had a choice to make. He could do his time in protective custody living with p*******es or he could be in the general population. He talked about having to live with men that ****d little k**s and it was too horrific. I sat there drinking my beer. I would’ve made the same decision as he did. He knew what it meant. He was adorable, tiny, innocent, weak and brave. If you are naïve let me break it down for you. In prison races do not mix. He refused to discuss the details. You could see it in his face. Black men pinned him and gang ****d him.

This shit happens all the time. Someone steps in and offers protection. The judge could’ve sent him to some tiny safe prison. He was too much of a flight risk. No other prison in the state was more violent and notorious for gang issues. The white power movement offered him protection. Would you get ass ****d or join a gang? I would join a fucking gang to protect my asshole. He had never been to junior high. He didn’t know about the holocaust. He was not adopted by a few kind men. Men doing life notorious for high level white power activity became his salvation.

I drank another beer and thought about how privileged my life has been. He asked me if I was jewish. He told me my nose could make me a jew. He told me not to lie about this issue. I let him know I wasn’t jewish and he relaxed. I wanted to know more. He was indoctrinated that white people were superior and it gave him hope. People don’t realize the v******e stays at a minimum once a gang takes you in. He was taught that black people were inferior but the true enemy was the jews. They were an evil monopoly destroying the world and hitler was like jesus for killing them.

A lot of people didn’t understand that about the nazi. His hatred was not towards black people. It was about being jewish. That was the irony. So many of the friends I made from him were black. He showed me his tattoos and I was fascinated. One arm had a big red swastika. He fucked up when he got it done. You can only get a red swastika if you shank a nigger. Yes I am using the word because I want you to understand the way he talked. I want you to understand how the word is used in prison. I don’t censor and write books like twilight. This is about prison and black people were called niggers.

He learned to make a shank out of anything. He had the red swastika and it meant he needed blood. So he shanked a nigger and added time to his sentence. As soon as he got in prison all he did was fixate on getting strong. He had his teenage growth spurt and got taller. He was solid muscle after a few years. He talked fondly of prison. His other arm was the coolest tattoo I have ever seen. It was a sun and this twisted concoction of skulls. I quizzed him on it. Prison guards love money. You can get anything you want in prison. His mom gave him unlimited money. He paid a fortune for real tattoo ink. It was done with a homemade gun. It was drawn freestyle. He didn’t have enough ink so part of it was lighter. I don’t remember how he made the ink but it had something to do with burning rubber. There are ways.

We were around cops sometimes and he got compliments for having the best jail house tattoo they ever saw. The man who did it was doing life. Most of his comrades were lifers. He embraced reading. I told you he was smart. One of our first conversations we discussed anne rice. I never met another man who read ‘the witching hour.’ That will always be one of my favorite books.

He lost his virginity in prison. He was really handsome. He worked in the library. He seduced the librarian and had a major love affair. He was a hardened criminal when he finished his time. In prison he discovered pot. He got high the first time blowing pot smoke down the toilet. He got time added on when someone stole his fluffy pillow and gave him a ragged one. He shanked the man to get back his pillow. Someone stole his canteen and he shanked them for retribution.

You cook ramen noodles with the hot water from your sink. If you have money you never eat prison food. Your meal is usually ramen noodles and fritos. He got out and he wasn’t home long. What he went through made him psychotic. I almost understand what happened because his sister was such malicious trash it is unfathomable. Her daughter was named Amaya. One day he saw his sister use the kitchen counter to change a shitty diaper. He went insane. His mother had a gun from being a deputy and he pulled it on her. He actually regretted not pulling the trigger. He went back to the same prison and did more time.

He got out and stayed out of trouble. I can’t explain how I could date him. He told me the only reason he called me was because tony told him how great my tits were. He had two baby momma’s and they were both gorgeous. It was strange. He went to trucking school. He got behind on c***d support and they had his license suspended. Trust me. All he wanted to do was work. They demanded money. They demanded his license be taken. If I had a deadbeat dad that didn’t pay I would grant him a license. I went to court with him when he tried to get it back. They were good friends. He never met his c***dren. When he left one girl she busted out with ‘by the way I’m jewish.’ It horrified him he had a son with jewish blood. In all honesty if he could find them he would kill her and his c***d.

He sounds like a monster doesn’t he? I have never had a man treat me so well. I was in nursing school. My mom lost her job. This part is hard for me to discuss. I was really close with my cousin. We worked as a team to take care of my aunt who couldn’t walk. I don’t want to talk about it. I changed her diapers, dressed her, feed her. I cleaned the house. There is nothing I didn’t do for just two hundred bucks a week. I lost a major part of my life stuck in that house with diapers and my abusive uncle.

Something really bad happened to me. When you take an anti-psychotic there is a terrible side effect. It is called tardive dyskensia. You only see it in schizophrenics. It is a facial deformity. You lose control of your face. Your jaw will not stop moving. It looks just like you are high on meth and eating your face. I wanted to die. My shrink put me on a different medicine. I had a terrible reaction. I would stay awake all night and sleep so hard in the day I pissed the bed. Nothing I’ve lived through was worse than that medicine.

I still did all my duties. My aunt cried over my broken face and understood why I couldn’t leave the bed. My mom would look at me and cry. People in school swore up and down I had a d**g problem. I still made straight A’s. Nothing stopped me. It all happened at once. Maybe I dated him because he liked me even though I was nearly bald and my face was broken. The first week we dated laura and my cousin broke up again. My cousin came over to my new boyfriend’s house. We had a blast. The nazi had the cutest ragamuffin friends on earth. You couldn’t not love his friends. We got casey high and drunk and he was happy.

The next day tony threw a party. He was from money. He had his own house. He was as sweet as sugar. I invited laura to come over. She had her own agenda. She brought a bottle of liquor. She was fine with my boyfriend. She told us to leave. I laughed about it because she was always a whore. The next day we went to tony’s and he was in shock. No woman had done that to him. He felt like he got ****d. She was so demanding and violent it freaked him out. She had some saggy tits. He renamed her nubs. He was almost pissed at me because she squirted all over his room. It was basically ‘do you realize your friend hurt my dick, scratched me up and there is a huge pussy stain on my wall?’

I thought the funniest aspect is that after sex she drove to the gas station to buy him a pack of cigarettes as payment. This girl was like my sister. I visited her daily in the house I used to live in. I called her and told her me and ben are coming over. She was a totally different person. I knew when she asked me to leave she planned on fucking him. I started joking around with her about the issue. She said something like real men don’t discuss that topic. She told me nothing happened like I was an idiot and asked me to leave.

The next day she was back with my cousin. She attacked me for bringing my criminal boyfriend in her house. Then she told me I could no longer drink in her house. I watched tv there and it was my habit to drink two Smirnoff ice. She told me that she would not be the reason I got killed drunk driving. It was bullshit. I was in the nursing program. A DUI would ruin my education. I was never over the limit.

She had three other secrets. I thought they were repulsive. One night before ben we met a cute boy at a club. I was sitting with her brother so he approached laura. I begged her to give him my number because she was dating my cousin. One day she confided she was fucking him but it wouldn’t work because he had a little dick. Her next secret pisses me off. I got her a job at the cleaners I used to work at. She was having an affair with a senior citizen. She was making him use what little money he had to buy her books, dvds and lunch. She would lie and say she was going to the bank and go to his house. His poor wife was forced to deal with her affair. She would take these pictures of him with her rubbing on him. I was grossed out.

The final straw was her obsession with Mormons. When I talk about our college years she was fascinated with fucking a teen Mormon on a bike. We had Mormons over all the time. At the cleaners she met some Mormons and they were nice to her. She loved attention. She would lie and say she was with our friends and go to the Mormon services. One of our last talks fucked with me. She was planning her baptism into the Mormon religion. I asked her if it was a true religious conviction. She laughed and described how cool she was for infiltrating the Mormons for shits and giggles.

We all have opinions. I think Mormons are a silly cult. It involves mind control, manipulation and stupidity. I do not rag on many religions. I bust on Mormons and scientologists hardcore. Yet to me it is disrespectful to baptize yourself for attention and glory. I don’t want someone like that in my life. A week with the nazi gave me happiness I hadn’t had in a long time. My cousin was basically my brother. We were a team. I knew too many secrets about his girlfriend. One day we were alone together and it was time.

I told him what she was doing. The Mormon issue was too much. The biggest issue was fucking the nazi’s best friend. He raged out on me for not telling him sooner. I told him a few days after I found out. It was actually funny. He wanted revenge but he wanted his free rent, internet and food. He didn’t leave laura. He stalked me. He is insane. No one was home at the nazi’s house. My cousin pulled in the driveway. The neighbors sensed he was dangerous. They told his mom and described my cousin. I sent him a text message. All it said was ‘quit stalking me you creepy fucker.’

I had no clue what that would do to my life. It makes no sense. He showed the message to my aunt and uncle. My uncle called me. He had been so cruel to me. Because of my medicine he always told me I was no good because I laid in the bed all day. He announced he saw the message I left my cousin. He told me my aunt said ‘her sweet baby didn’t talk that way.’ He told me never to come back. Just to be cruel he told me if I didn’t come get my things in one day he would be happy to take them to goodwill.

My mom went beserk. I was not allowed to get my things. She wanted to do it. She went psychotic on them for using me and abusing me. My aunt was the only person in the world that mattered to me. She was my best friend. She did it to me in sixth grade. She rifled through my book bag and saw I forged her signature on a permission slip. I was so young and perfect. She kicked me out and let me live in poverty. I had no ride to school. We didn’t have food. We had a bologna sandwich every night. I was dropped like trash. I never thought she would do it again.

She didn’t love me anymore because I used the word fuck. I needed the nazi not to die in devastation. My mom had no job and I would no longer get two hundred dollars a week for taking care of my aunt. I couldn’t work due to my deformity and school. I prayed. It was a deep prayer. I went to my shrink and demanded my old medicine. Tardive dyskensia is an irreversible condition. Once you have it you live with it. I was probably the saddest girl in the world.

He tried to stop me and told me it would get worse. I told him I would commit suicide if he didn’t give me back my medicine. I told him I would rather sleep right and be deformed than piss the bed and sleep forever. He didn’t argue. He thought I was a living dead girl. It took one week of face grinding so intense it was the only thing you could think about. I prayed. There are miracles. It went away. I do not have it at all. My shrink thought I was lying. It took two months of him analyzing my face to tell me I was one of the strangest people he ever encountered. He lectured me about being so damn lucky and blessed that nothing else should ever matter again.

I beat the irreversible condition through prayer. You’re goddamn right that I believe in God. I lost my aunt and he gave me back my face. Poverty so extreme most people would commit suicide set in. I take nothing forgranted. The fact I have tampons, toothpaste, shampoo, laundry detergent, gas and food right now mean I am rich. Food was the biggest issue. I can’t fill out forms and paperwork. A friend did it for me and I missed the verification phone call over and over.

It just happened to me again. I went to the food stamp office. I used the computer. It wanted my mom’s information not mine. It kept asking about her dentures and glasses. I asked the lady for help. I do want to cry. She told me she didn’t know what was happening. I begged for help. She told me to go home and do it on my computer. I was angry. I give up. If I can’t make it happen at the office there is no way I can do it on my computer.

We had a giant bag of rice. Sometimes we had hotdogs. Our salvation was the nazi’s mother. She went to a food bank to get stale bread. That bread kept us alive. She gave us two jars of apple butter. She sent us home with raymen noodles. She is a damn good woman. She didn’t have a job but she gave us money from her disability check. Life was hard for all of us. She knew one thing. The only way to keep her son from hurting people was to make sure he had pot. She also tried to keep him a bit drunk.

I can’t complain. My life was good. In time I realized that I was so much happier not changing diapers and letting my uncle harass me. It was a good thing she abandoned me. Loving her that much was killing me. My mom had no problem with a nazi felon living with us. It started when I asked if he could watch tv while I went to school. He was so good to my mother. They talked like old friends. He had a good heart. He was our salvation. I get sixty Xanax bars a month. All our friends did meth which means they needed Xanax. I was ruthless and charged four bucks a bar. I quit taking it and used it to survive. Right before I told my cousin about laura I was happy. I was proud of breaking my dependence on Xanax and the fact I could sell it.

I didn’t think of the ramifications. He told my grandma and she told my mom. It’s funny now. My mom made me swear to god I wasn’t selling my medicine. I had to lie. Irony is a few days ago I asked her how we were going to survive. She smiled at me and said ‘we’ll sell Xanax.’ I could’ve pissed. I had to tell her without the nazi I have no customers. I had the urge to tell her what I did do to survive. With the level of anti-psychotic I take I am useless without a stimulant. I was on Adderall. I wouldn’t sell that for twenty bucks a pill. It is as necessary as apple butter on stale bread.

My grandma absolutely refused to buy my medicine. It was a living nightmare. I was in an accelerated anatomy and physiology class. I had to study and my brain wouldn’t wake up. The nazi had a solution. Meth. You can’t know how intolerable it was for me to need my father’s d**g. I needed to study so bad. He called his friends. I can’t remember their names but I fell in love with them both. That first night we had no money. It was a Saturday which was their night to party. They were so good to me. I have never floated a boat before. The husband was so damn funny and generous. His wife was a character I will never forget. They had a baby I tried to nurture. A lot of people in florida survive on pain pill clinics. You show an x-ray. They give you a script for oxy or roxy. You sell them for twenty bucks a pill and that pays rent.

Before we even smoked meth she heard I was broke and quizzed me to get me in a pain clinic. I’ve never been injured. It’s not an option. Most people who use pill mills fuck up. They get hooked on the pills and have nothing to sell. The wife was hooked bad. I never saw her one time when she wasn’t dope sick. It was hilarious. She screamed, raged, cried and puked non-stop. I have never seen a couple fight the way they did. That first night they probably wanted to kill me. I can’t smoke on foil and I waste all the meth. I can’t get a hit. I let the straw hit the foil every time.

I don’t know how people do it. I couldn’t smoke it without someone burning the foil and moving it for me. Me and the wife needed someone to light it for us. That first night I hated myself. It didn’t matter. We went home I cracked open my book and read the chapter. It was instant memorization. It was knowledge I retained and understood in every way. I was hilarious in that class. I didn’t comb what little hair I had. I had to wear khakis or black pants due to the dress code. I had one pair of black pants I wore each night. I had two shirts that matched black. They were both ugly.

When I started I hid my tardive dyskensia with gum. Everyone assumed I was a dirty d**g addict. No one would speak or look at me. I tried to be invisible. It was impossible. I know those girls studied all week so hard it kills me. They also went to the Saturday tutorial where the professor handed out answers. I had one or two friends at first. Before each test I panicked. I told everyone it was impossible for me to pass. I was stoned and drunk to deal with anxiety. I didn’t care about a DUI for that class. With my level of anxiety I hammered as much beer as we could afford.

It never failed. The teacher announced the highest grade. I was embarrassed it was always me. I wanted to laugh at the girls who tried so hard. I wanted to scream I read the chapter one time high on meth and I don’t do the homework. That is what I remember about the nazi. I would walk in the house and announce my score. I made hundreds. Normally I made a 98. I remember one time I made a 94 and the nazi told me I could do better. He told me how smart I was all the time. No man has done that for me.

Our routine was nice. Every Saturday he mowed a lawn for twenty bucks. We bought twenty bucks in meth. One person we knew had a pipe. It saved my ass. I insisted we get one and never touch foil again. We argued over who got the last hit. We played the same song while we smoked. It was really kind of nice. I would study until three am and then it was play time. Meth gives me an outrageous sex drive. I introduced the nazi to internet porn. It was perfect. Meth broke his dick.

We laid next to each other. He tried to get hard. I played with my vibrator. It was almost torture. The d**g made an orgasm nearly impossible and I tried for hours to get there. I went through more batteries than you could imagine. We had some interaction. I couldn’t get off watching some chick suck dick. I love giving head. I would suck his cock until the fucking started then go back to masturbating. Then he coated his dick in lavender lotion and I didn’t even have to touch him. It was totally normal for us to watch the sun rise. We finally came down and we had orgasms. Then I took my sleeping pill and was out cold.

We never did it more than once a week. We never did more than twenty dollars. I only did it to study. Everyone in the class talked to me. If someone had a question this cool black chick announced ‘ask lynn she knows.’ I’m a good teacher. I could explain systems and formulas in a way people comprehended. If you were in doubt about an issue I could clarify the answer. I watched the girls who studied write information on the board. I infuriated them when I corrected false information. We argued and I would go to the book and prove them wrong. Everyone knew I didn’t study or do homework. People asked me how I did so well. I didn’t have an answer.

Meth didn’t help me do my greatest achievement. It was done sober and sedated. We had all semester to learn each bone in the body. That is no big deal. We had to know every notch, prominence, hole and aspect to every bone. We had to pick a bone out of a box and determine if it was left or right. There were at least sixty aspects of the skull to learn. We also had to know all the muscles. Every Saturday I planned to go and I was too sedated. Nothing was scarier. I waited until the final Saturday. I couldn’t wake up so I showed up three hours late.

Everyone felt sorry for me. I was so damn ignorant I couldn’t pick out a femur. These girls studied all semester. I let them teach me. That’s when they learned how I made higher grades. You could show me all the terms once and I could recite them and retain them. I fucked with people repeating exactly what the said. Left and right were hard for me. I got it down. I am very smart. You should always figure out how a test is designed. There were twenty five stations with a bone that you identified. There was a sticker for one facet. Then you determined right or left.

There was an issue I investigated. You think there would be so many resources. There were two skulls. All sixty of those terms were irrelevant. You could miss both questions on the skull and still make an A. I told my friend Danielle to forget the skull. She goes ‘are you sure?’ I told her I am positive. We learned everything else. The snooty bitches hoarded the two skulls. I mastered everything in two hours or less. I had ten minutes to spare. I marched my ass over to the snooty bitches. I said ‘I need the skull, you’ve had it all semester.’ They handed me one. Me and Danielle had to share. It is something you have to hold in your hand and learn. Two people can’t do it.

I gave her five minutes. I watched her pull it off. Then I had five minutes. Each term was seen once and retained. The snooty bitches stopped to watch me completely curious. The next day before the test one of them got cocky and said do it again. I recited all sixty terms with no flaws and they were furious. I took that test with complete confidence. I missed the spelling of one muscle and made a 98. I was pissed. There was an extra credit question to name one bone in the hand that had been removed. I missed it. I was pissed not to be perfect. My teacher watched the way I learned. When he handed me back my grade he told me I was amazing and I blushed. I wanted to tell him it’s only because I’m dating a nazi that can score me meth.

The scariest thing that happened to me during that time haunts me. I was eating chicken and noodles while the nazi rocked us on the swing. As if he was telling me today is Tuesday he said ‘I killed a girl.’ I remember trying to swallow. I asked why. He told me he fucked her. He got the clap. So he slit her throat and put her body in the everglades. He told me her name was ariel and all I could think was he killed the little mermaid. I know my stds. The clap is cured with antibiotics. I could possibly comprehend his behavior if he got syphilis or herpes. The clap is nothing.

I am smart. You don’t freak out when a person confesses murder. You do not run screaming. With a name like ariel and medical records on file to collaborate what he said I could go to the police. I puked on the way to class. I knew I had to leave him some way where I didn’t get killed. Before I could leave him I had no choice but to provoke him. He had a friend he told me could sell my dad’s tools. He called him a brother and vouched for him. We were desperate for money. We let him clear out the whole shop. He was nice. It was a rare occasion when I had meth not on a Saturday. It should’ve been a clue.

I gave him one thing I should’ve kept forever. My grandpa’s antique woodworking tools. He promised that was something he could easily sell for a lot of money. I was stupid and desperate. A few weeks later one of our other friends ratted him out for selling all our shit and buying meth. I hate getting robbed. I lose my mind. I demanded the nazi call that motherfucker and arrange payback. There was a problem he was six foot something, around three hundred pounds, stronger than an ox, and he did time in jail for murder. Nobody scares me. The nazi refused to pick up the phone. He was scared.

I told him nobody steals from me and my goddamn momma without revenge. I took his phone and dialed his number. My verbal assault was epic. He hung up on me. I called back and kept going. He must of hung up on me five times. He texted the nazi to put his bitch on a leash. I raged out and demanded him to do something. I wanted him to call. He texted something like ‘she’s not a bitch.’ I grabbed my damn car keys. The nazi wrestled them from me. I told him I thought you were a real man and you’re a fucking pussy coward twat. He told me he fought the man once and got beat. I told him I didn’t give a shit.

I am very simple. I use weapons. I had enough cash for a baseball bat. As far as I’m concerned if you can’t beat the shit out of someone with a bat you aren’t worthy of my time. I let him know he was just like every man I knew who wouldn’t stand up for me. I tore into him for doing ten years in jail and having smaller balls than me. I said you can kill a girl but you won’t fight a man who robbed me? I let him no he was not badass. He was not a fucking nazi. He was nothing but a scared little bitch. There was no way that I didn’t provoke him.

He told me to get in the car. I was still screaming and he stayed calm. I had quit pot for my d**g test. It was not the day to rob me. He went to a gas station and bought my first container of the fake weed spice. I call it fweed. I let him know that fucking potpourri would do nothing calm me down. We went to his friend’s house. I humiliated him telling his friends he couldn’t make a phone call because he was a pussy. I asked them if they would let their woman get robbed and called a bitch that needed a leash? They were afraid to say yes. They were afraid to say no.

There was no calming me down. He handed me a fweed joint. Jesus fucking Christ. Fweed is good. In less than two minutes I felt like I was tripping, rolling and doing nitrous. It had to be twenty minutes before I could form a sentence. My anger and the d**g were amazing. I still let him know I wasn’t sure I could touch him again. All I could say is ‘I will not fuck a pussy.’ He went psychotic. He told me that a fight would be his third strike which meant life in prison. I said ‘no one in that trailer park calls the cops you pussy.’ Then he launched into this tirade that he was going to burn down his trailer. I laughed at him. I told him that I wanted a phone call or a fight. He told me all I had to do was pick him up after the fire. I laughed at him. I told him I would not be an accomplice to arson with a baby in the house.

He was so mad. I was simple. I told him to give me my goddamn car keys so I could buy a bat and defend my damn self. All I needed was a weapon. I knew his door was unlocked. With a bat I could destroy everything he owned. I told him my family doesn’t play around. I raged that I had to go through the humiliation of telling my mom I got us robbed. I told him my mother had a bigger cock than him. I told him to take me home so I could tell my mom we got robbed and he couldn’t make a phone call. We got home and I called him again in a rage.

I finally scared him. He knew too much about me. He said ‘I’ll be at your house to tell you mom you do meth.’ I tore into him. I told him a real man would take a beating and not run and tell my mommy I’ve been bad. I told him he was just a pussy like my boyfriend. I was silent. I smoked fweed and thought real hard. He won. I could never let my mother know I do d**gs. I thought about taking my boyfriend home and telling him what a silly twat he turned out to be.

Finals were coming up and I needed meth to study. I told him he was forbidden from burning his house down or I would report him to the police. In no way would I let him talk to my mother. I wouldn’t speak to him. Now I was just using him. Nearly the next day I did what I had to do. I went to my grandma. I told her she could believe an alcoholic who used people or she could believe me. I was very clear. I would drop out of school with a straight A average because I couldn’t study without medicine. I told her she could ruin my life or help me but I wouldn’t beg.

Then I used the wild card. I told her that I planned to rededicate my life to god and I would see her in church on Sunday. I got a check for my medicine and an apology. I got my refill. Tony was having a party. I did a shitload of Adderall. He had some hard exclusive liquor. I no longer needed the nazi. It was spontaneous. He came up to hug me. As soon as he was at the right angle I threw the best punch of my life. I was so happy to see blood gushing down his face. I laughed at him. No man has ever wanted to hit me more. There were at least four men there that loved me to pieces. No way could he touch me.

I was really too drunk to drive. Tony looked hurt to tell me I was a crazy bitch and I needed to leave. He called his mom. She showed up. She tried to calm me down. I remember her saying ‘lynn you’re drunk.’ I told her it didn’t matter. Her son was a killer and I was done with him. She had been so good to me and I had to go psychotic on her. I warned her if her son came near my fucking house that I would kill him and burn down her fucking house. I told her one phone call or stalking gesture meant she would be fucking homeless. I scared the shit out of her.

The last thing I did was scream out ‘I fuck niggers.’ It was hilarious. I laughed the whole way home. I walked in the door and told my mom he killed a girl and I hit him. She was sad. She said ‘I really liked him.’ Until he backed down when I got robbed I liked him too. One thing he did that will stay with me forever was his door fetish. At no point was I allowed to open my own car door. I wasn’t allowed to open any door. I may never meet another man that insists on opening my car door like it is the fifties. I kind of like opening my own fucking door.

I threw the meth pipe in the creek that night. I kept my word. On Sunday I went to church. I didn’t waste time. I demanded to be baptized again. I said the lies. I proclaimed Jesus Christ as my lord and savior. I talked to god about the issue. There are many sons of god. Jesus was holy. So was allah. So was Buddha. What matters is your devotion to god. I called my aunt. I told her I was back in church, making straight A’s, I broke up with the boy she didn’t like and most of all I was getting baptize. She could love me again because I was perfect.

I was so angry. After I left they hired a nurse for a thousand dollars a week. I was used and manipulated. I didn’t care. I went to her house and crawled in bed beside her. She was my universe. I started the actual nursing program. I hated it. We had some time together. I actually taught Sunday school. She was so happy my face was fixed. One of our last adventures was a shopping trip. I needed new clothes. We went with her white trash nurse. It was an epic event.

Aunt jonell does not play around when it comes to shopping. I tried to go easy on her. I was fat still. Old navy has bigger sizes. I needed church clothes. I found two dresses that didn’t fit. I am hard to dress. Both dresses must be altered to fit. I will get it done. Aunt jonell bought them for me. We were just getting started. At that weight lane Bryant was my only option. I hate their clothes. Aunt jonell’s favorite thing to do was pick out what I wore. She had a mountain of things she wanted me to try on.

The nurse thought I was manipulating an old lady. All she could talk about was how expensive everything was. Aunt jonell schooled her. She let her know we only buy nice things. She told her we had been doing this for more than thirty years. Aunt jonell knew how to be haughty. Her speech about the fact we never look at price tags nearly made me pee. She educated the woman that you get what you pay for. She told her I was her baby. She wanted me to have anything I wanted. I let her make all the decisions. I didn’t say no to anything she liked. We blew at least a grand.

I hate everything. It will stay in my closet forever. Soon I started wearing wigs. Aunt jonell was giddy. Before the wig I got baptized. Aunt jonell used to wash and iron the baptismal gowns. When I was seven there was a fitting room for putting on your gown. It was an elegant affair. At seven I slipped and dunked myself before I could be baptized. I had a life-long fascination with the baptismal pool. As a teenager I contemplated stealing my uncle’s church keys to fuck in the pool and on the altar. Church makes me sexual.

Things had changed. A woman reached under the sink and pulled out the most wrinkled stained gown I’ve ever seen. I was ashamed of what my church became. I had my clothes to change into in a garbage bag. I got naked next to a toilet. This was no joke for me. It had nothing to do with Christianity. It was about god. I decided to be butt-ass fucking naked under that gown. I had on no make-up or jewelry. I was just in a holy garment that was unkempt.

I didn’t know it. This was the last time she would leave the house. It was the last time she put on something pretty, wore make-up and all her jewelry. Most of all it was her last time in perfume. They took my picture before I went in the water. It was awful to look at my messy bald hair in a wrinkled gown. I climbed the stairs. I have never been so happy. The smell of the chlorine reminded me of my c***dhood. The pool is heated to the perfect temperature. You feel god when your feet hit the water.

Time stood still. Aunt jonell was in her wheelchair and she looked so pretty. I knew this was the greatest gift she could ever have. I wanted to cry. I knew she was near death. Part of my deal with god was doing this as long as I passed the d**g test pot free. I had my clean piss and I fulfilled my bargain. I was dunked and it was a holy moment. I decided to change everything. It doesn’t take long for you to be in, out, cold and wet. But you feel different.

I tracked time by Sundays. I won’t discuss what propaganda they were flinging. I lived for that hour in Sunday school. The c***dren will always be with me. In church I read the bible and did not listen to the preacher. His wife was shocked how different I looked with a wig. I always had a k** on my lap playing in my long hair. My uncle’s suicide came first. It didn’t phase me. I retook the test I missed without studying one thing. I told her I would fail it and I cried. It was worth the fifty grand I owe for that moment. I prayed for guidance. I guessed on every question. On a test sometimes I kind of gravitate to the right answer on instinct.

I was crying and I asked her how bad it was. She had this look on her face. She said ‘you made a 98, that’s the highest grade in the class.’ She said she didn’t know how I did it. She told me this was the hardest chapter and so many k**s failed they might have to adjust the curve. That is bullshit mountain.

The next day it happened. A few days before I went to aunt jonell’s and we had our last conversation. She couldn’t get over how pretty I was. My uncle went senile. He was attacking me still. I was crying. I told her that all he did was hurt me for a life-time. He got off on it. She was so honest. She apologized. She told me she wished she never married him. She wished she divorced him. She told me she had always made enough money to support us and give us everything. She said what I needed to hear in every way. We talked about being in heaven together. She told me she loved me more than anything or anyone. We held each other and cried. I thought we had plenty of time.

My cousin dropped her the next day. I thought nothing of it. I was so caught up in school I thought she had a broken toe. No one wanted to tell me what happened. A small shard of bone entered her brain and she was no longer sane or fixable. I went into a zone of denial. It was a few days since I had buried my uncle. I heard the word hospice and dying. All of a sudden her two evil step daughters were there. I can promise you if I had not sat in the va hospital waiting for my father to die I would have been holding her hand the whole week.

I had to say goodbye. She was already being starved and killed with morphine. Seeing her like that was worse than anything. Everyone knew to leave me alone with her. I got another miracle. It was beautiful. I can say an eloquent farewell. My words were beautiful. She hadn’t spoken since the bone entered her brain. I asked. She hadn’t recognized anyone or anything. She could hear me. Suddenly there was no morphine making her sleep. Suddenly her face wasn’t drooping. She looked perfectly beautiful. She had her ‘I’m so happy and I’m better than you smile’ on. She was squeezing my hand. She kept repeating lynnie over and over. I was never lynn. I was lynnie. She wouldn’t stop saying it. She knew exactly who I was and what I was saying.

Her favorite thing was heaven and I told her how happy she would be. I said everything she would want to hear. I blacked out after that. It was a complete mental breakdown. I tried to go to school. No one gives a shit when your great aunt is dying. I had to tell them very simply she absolutely was my mother. One memory stands out. I had a best friend from the day I started college. She knew aunt jonell so well. I needed her bad. We hadn’t talked since I quit smoking pot. She came to my house for the last time.

It was irony. She is the cunt who told me she wouldn’t be seen with me in public if I wore a wig. I had on a damn sexy one. I remember her at eighteen and she was so hot. At 31 she was unrecognizable. He obsession with tanning was a huge mistake. I told her not to get hooked on pain killers. That was one of the reasons we quit talking. Her face broke out from all the d**gs. She couldn’t let it heal. She was a picker. Picking her pimples made her dig scars in her face. I could barely look at her.

She got this grin on her face seeing me in a wig. She was delusional. She said it looks nice and basically laughed at me. We sat on my porch with her new boyfriend I knew well. I kind of forgot about aunt jonell. Jen was so dependent on pot you have no clue. I could tell she was high on pills. She always had one thing going for her. She never touched alcohol. Things had changed. She was happy about it. She discovered some potent fruity liquor. I hadn’t a drop of alcohol in a long time. Part of my change was no more pot and no more beer. I’d already started dropping weight. She had gained so much weight. She was dressed in one of those baggy flash dance style eighties shirts and jeans so tight you could see her gut and a camel toe.

I was in nice shorts and a tank top. She got trashed while she smoked pot alone. I know when a man is checking me out. Her boyfriend knew me as an unkempt fat mess. We had a role reversal. He was big on sobriety. Jen never looked worse. We switched. She was just too fucked up to notice. Being sober it was clear as day. She destroyed herself. I tried to talk about aunt jonell. I wanted her to remember the first night she came over. She had a broken heart because her boyfriend was in a c*** dying. It was her birthday. Aunt jonell didn’t even know her. She baked her a birthday cake and we bought alcohol free sparkling cider. She didn’t remember the cake.

I tried to remind her of the day we got a wild hair up our ass to go to Disney world. I called aunt jonell and she gave us the money and told as to have a great day. She didn’t remember that either. I wanted to hit her. She wanted to talk about reality tv. I tried to tell her I was heartbroken and I needed her. I begged her to go to the funeral. She said ‘sure.’ I knew she was lying. I felt closure when she left. She was belligerent. I was sober. I’ll never see her again thank god.

The next day was Sunday. I planned to visit aunt jonell after church. It couldn’t have been any better. Something told me in the middle of the lesson to call my grandmother. She has no soul. She didn’t tell me she died that night. She didn’t think to call me before church. I had a little Mexican girl on each leg. I realized I found out she died in her favorite place on earth. I wept like the world was ending. The two little girls started crying and asked me what was wrong. I told them they were happy tears because my aunt went to heaven and she was with jesus.

There was no one in my life that would hug me and let me cry. The two little girls hugged me so tight. Their little hands wiped away my tears. They stopped crying and told me to be happy. The preacher’s wife had no soul. She asked me not to let k**s sit on my lap and I ignored her request. They petted my hair and kept wiping away tears. I knew aunt jonell wouldn’t want me to lose her anywhere but there with the sweet words of c***dren. I felt god. I knew that it was all going to be okay.

The Sunday school teacher actually asked me to leave. As much money as aunt jonell had given that church and helped it grow. She had no words of gratitude. the preacher and is wife had a house and food because aunt jonell tithed the full amount even when the preacher didn’t visit her. She had been a Sunday school teacher for so long. She sang in the choir. My whole life she handed me a dollar so I could contribute to the offering plate. I was at peace. I knew nothing on earth could get me in that place again. I drove home happy.

Aunt jonell knew her death would break me. She put me in a holy room with two beautiful c***dren to offer me the comfort no one on earth could offer. I went home and took enough sleeping medicine to feel nothing. I tried to go to school the next day. I couldn’t stop crying and left. I went back to bed and prepared for the viewing that would annihilate me. I made sure I looked beautiful in a nice dress, panty hose and heels. My mom could handle this funeral. I was in a fugue state. My brother hadn’t seen me in years. I know I freaked him out. He was fat and bald. He did look like my father.

He did one nice thing for me my whole life. He got out of the car and offered me the rest of the rum and coke he drank while driving ther. Later I found out he had a gun in his pocket in case he needed to kill my cousin. He wouldn’t bring his family to honor the woman that raised him. He never could look at me. As much as I hated him I wanted him to know his sister was sweet, loving and funny. I timed it. He was my world until I was five. For aunt jonell I owed him five minutes of my time.

He looked straight forward. I was so sweet. I asked him what it was like to be a nurse. He couldn’t speak to me. It was gibberish. I kept trying for five minutes. You find out who your friends are when your mother dies. I know fifteen girls aunt jonell pampered as her own c***dren. The girl she barely knew was the chick I went to metal concerts with. When aunt jonell picked us up she always had her shirt inside out not to freak her out with a metal band. She moved out of state. Her mom had treated me like a daughter. My friend told her mom aunt jonell died and she came to the viewing. I wept that a family loved me that much. All I could do was thank her. Unlike my mother she could hold me while I cried.

My cousin was so abusive. He made me miss her last year. It didn’t matter. She raised me him and my brother. She raised my mom and the aunt that committed suicide. I needed my cousin. We stood outside smoking a cigarette while we cried. My brother was at the viewing less than ten minutes. As he walked out he saw me and my cousin together. You could see his rage. You could see his urge to use the gun. He stormed away with no ability to say goodbye or thanks for the memories.

I was happy I could show him love and make him see me with my real brother. I could pass for eighteen. He looked fifty. My cousin was attractive. We didn’t age. I went home and prepared for the grave yard. Her step daughters were going to bury her in an ugly pantsuit. I raised hell. I went to her closet and picked out her favorite pink suit. I called my grandma because I forgot one thing. I needed to know she was in her girdle panties and her mastectomy bra with the titty pad. We waged war because I thought surely she would know to bury her sister in panty hose and the white heels she loved. She tried to tell me no one sees that part of the body or shoes.

I let her know aunt jonell never had bare legs or went barefoot. I promised her if she couldn’t provide that she would be buried with no underwear wearing the ugliest thing she owned. I demanded she have on gold earrings and a chain. I get what I demand. At the viewing her dead body didn’t disturb me. I was happy. She was a beautiful woman. The make-up and her favorite pink suit made her look fifty again. She was religious about wrinkle cream and sunscreen. She was shockingly beautiful. She told me a long time ago she would be buried in a pink casket decorated with pink roses. It was so beautiful I couldn’t be sad.

All her life she was religious about sending floral arrangements to funerals. She spent a fortune on flowers for people she barely knew. The joke was my grandma asked to have her name on the card and refused to help pay. She didn’t even buy her sister flowers knowing how important it was to her. I was dead broke. If I had money there would’ve been so many flowers in her honor. I don’t remember a single flower and it hurt me. I did black out at the funeral. I have no memory. My brother wouldn’t go.

My memory resurfaces at the grave. I wouldn’t leave my cousin casey. The most evil step daughter had her own monster daughter. She came up to me and started telling me how I needed jesus. I laughed at her. I told I rededicated myself to the church. I told her the last time aunt jonell left the house was to attend my baptism. I let her know I’d been teaching Sunday school a long time. With a smart ass grin I asked her if she dedicated her life to teaching c***dren about god? She left humiliated.

I blacked out again. I remember not being able to leave. I couldn’t move there was some floral arrangement it had doves on it. I removed a dove for me and my cousin. We were soul crushed. We left together. I wouldn’t let go off the doves. We stopped at a gas station. Of course casey had no money. I bought him dip and a twelve pack of cheap beer. We needed to be alone. We went to my cousin’s house because no one was there.

We drank basically in silence. We discussed how we could live without her. In a lot of ways we contemplated suicide. I had to admit I didn’t know how to go to school anymore. He had nowhere to live except with my grandma. We talked about hating my uncle and his c***dren. We talked about this being the worst day of our life. The only comfort we had was that nothing else could hurt that bad. Everyone else was dead. I went home and blacked out.

I went to school the next day in a state of shock. My teacher told me I missed too many days and demanded I take the test that afternoon. I didn’t say a word. She was so rude she acted like I missed class to go to a concert festival. She showed no concern. I didn’t hesitate. I went directly to the dean of the nursing program. She knew me well. I poured out my soul. She just listened to me beautifully describe the uncle who was my mentor committing suicide. I described the week I had with her. I told her about our last moment. We were both weeping.

I told her no teacher had ever showed less empathy. I reported her for being cruel and cold. She told me her story. When her mother died she had a mental breakdown that forced her to take a leave of absence. She told me the pain gets worse. She talked about giving up her whole career for one more day with her mother. We held each other and wept. No instructor has given me more support. She let me know it outraged her that an instructor tried to force a straight A nursing student she hand-picked into the program to take a test one day after the funeral. She was pissed. She told me to take as much time as I needed. She thanked me for letting her know an instructor behaved like that. She told me to keep fighting.

I went home and studied. I was determined to take the test the next day. I don’t remember anything but I took the test. The next day I had clinicals in the maternity ward with the teacher that disrespected me. You couldn’t be there if you didn’t have your badge. I bawled. It was nowhere to be found. The stepsisters called me to get the things I inherited with a warning over the phone that I was not getting all her jewelry. I told them I had school and they told me I could miss it because they wanted this done with or else.

I lost my heart and soul. I was destroyed and broken. I decided to quit and never go back. I told my teacher to meet me in the cafeteria. I was crying because I knew I was giving up. She sat down in front of me and started a lecture. She told me I was out of line for going to the dean. She said regulations meant I should discuss the matter with her. I looked at her with sheer hate. All I asked was ‘is your mother still alive?’ She didn’t expect that. She had to say yes. I gave her a speech about how lucky she was. I let her know once she dies she will never treat a student the way she did me. I told her she was cold, cruel, rude, malicious, hateful and speaking to her was not an option.

I let her know her behavior needed to be reported. I told her I know you were reprimanded for the way you treated me. I told her she should learn a valuable lesson on how to handle death. I told her I didn’t have my badge. I had no desire to keep going. I told her that I was in a state of shock. I told her I was a dangerous liability in this mental condition. She told me not to quit. I made a high b on the test. I was one of the highest GPA’s in the program. I told her it didn’t matter. I didn’t care anymore. I told her all that I cared about was getting my belongings.

She told me she understood. She told me to wait a few minutes. Two girls from my class had sympathy cards and gifts. It was so sweet. One girl gave me a giant cupcake. Another girl gave me a wind chime. We all cried and hugged. I walked out. The step daughters robbed me blind and tormented me. If I didn’t give them the jewelry they wanted then I couldn’t remove anything from the house. I demanded to see the will and they refused. My favorite things had no value. I let them know they stole from me. It didn’t matter. I gave them diamonds gold and pearls for a set of coffee mugs.

My uncle attacked me and said that it all belonged to him. I told him I knew about the will. I told him he had been my father my whole life. He told me I was not blood. He went insane and told me all I did was cost him money. I told him I lived with him for thirty years and reminded him his daughters visited so rarely I didn’t know them. He picked up my aunt’s checkbook. I wasn’t prepared. He slapped me across the face with it. Then he told me all I was to him was thee cars and lasiks. I was in a state of shock. I poured out my agony instead of my aggression.

He told me I was getting life insurance money that should go to him. His son defended me. He asked him how he could be such a monster after all I did for him. I was broken. His son made him feel so evil he tried to hug me. I wouldn’t touch him. I wouldn’t speak to him. I told his son I would be back tomorrow with a moving truck and left. I entered a deep depression that lasted months. I wouldn’t leave the bed. My evil uncle died a few months later. Nothing would make me go to that funeral.

One day my cousin called. He told me the dug up my uncle's casket to be with his family. He had no tombstone. Someone planted a tiny Mexican flag where a tombstone should be. The next day he called me and told me he was going to blow my mother’s brains out. I was clueless. He adopted a k** and abused him. Someone reported his whereabouts and the fact he would inherit land. He thought it was my mom. I engaged in full blown war.

That was the irony. She died from hospice after an injury. It didn’t make sense. Aunt jonell still gets shit done. The insurance company ruled her death an accident. I had paperwork that listed him as the cause of death. Then I laughed him. Aunt jonell left him nothing. He killed her and I got a bonus check for ten grand. We are mortal enemies. He killed my mother. It took me a year to recover. That year has its own story. I wrote each night. I stayed sober. I’m devoted to God. I write because it gives me joy. This blog is too long. It will be read by three men. Dave, my teddybear and wolfrider. Sometimes I am long on purpose. I don’t want everyone to read this. It is too personal. It gets added to the collection. I hope one day Jessica reads it. One woman is the reason I tell my life story. Soon I will return to short erotic stories. Sometimes I have to write until I can’t complete another sentence. Sometimes I don’t want an audience. If you actually read this say a few words so I can thank you.