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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
A cynical girl who enjoys mocking others recounts a series of enjoyable events from her life. (I might add more to this story later. There's no actual storyline, just a series of short stories, so I might maybe add some more in later.)

Submitted: September 26, 2008

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Submitted: September 26, 2008




OK, OK, my family and friends are completely hilarious, I am telling you. All right, here's a funny story. My cousin Leia--her parents must've been watching Star Wars or something just before she was born--yeah, she had this boyfriend, named Stanley. So after a while they got married, and he was her second husband because she'd been in this little abusive relationship and everything, but that's a whole 'nother story. But yeah, he was her second husband and her son Eddie had a hard time getting used to having him as his stepdad, and Stanley was always jealous because Eddie got more attention from Leia.

Anyway, eventually things got to be too much and she and Stanley got a divorce and they were going through all this crappy drama, wetting themselves and being practically like some uninspired soap characters, because Princess Leia was just so into him even though he really wasn't all that to begin with. I mean, the guy looked like the freaky lovechild of Chris Tucker and Steve Urkel. Anyway, she spent, like, the next few months whining about how God and destiny would bring the two of them back together, and she sort of started getting delusional. I mean ... it was like she thought the guy was her love slave. He already had a younger girlfriend, too, so she was just going on the assumption that he liked older women. Yeah ... a lot older, mm'K?

So this charity case is actually clinging to this triflin' guy even though she can do so much better. And how. I mean, she wasn't a total prize herself, but it's not like Stan the Man was really a catch to begin with. Yeah, so sad and so true. She could have gotten something better listening to astrology or something crappy like that. One day the poor girl was whining to me about her little waning love life, and I just had to be honest.

"Oh, Spirit, hon ... it's awful. I mean, I know if I trust in God, He'll bring Stanley back to me, but ... oh, I dunno, this hurt is just too much for me to take, girlfriend," she whined, with a handkerchief and everything ... girlfriend was a mess.

"... Yeah, uh ... darling, you're a mess," I sighed.

"Ugh, Spirit, why can't you just try and be a little more understanding? I mean, it's not exactly easy having your husband leave you. I have Eddie to take care of, and you know I don't have any money. H-how can anyone expect me to pay for sending him to school and taking care of bills? I ... I mean, where are we gonna live? Wh-what are we gonna do?"

Then she broke out crying. Wow. Just wow. This girl was going loco as a mug over this little triflin' cheater.

"You're crazy as hell, you know that? No, really, are you seriously throwing a tiffy over this little pansy hubby of yours? I mean, really. Are you all right in the head? Why don't you just ... heh heh ... why don't--why don't you just go over there and mooch off Grandpa like you always do? He's already bought you, what, five cars? And you totaled all of them, honey."

"Oh, well, girl," she started, standing up and grabbing her tacky purse she probably got for a discount at Target, "I guess I know never to come to you for no help anymore. I'm just gon' have to trust in the Lord that He'll bring my man back."

"Oh, yep, ya kn--yeah, you're right. Praise Jesus. Go on, girl."

"Uh-huh. Ye--girl, you got problems."

"You're messy. Bye-bye, now."

Yep, crushing the tortured souls of my precious drama queens is what I live for. It's really the only way to help; tearing them down until they're just shells and see how dumb they are. I love my work.


Yeah, so I went to my other cousin Tamara's husband's family's house for a little Christmas party. Yeah, OK, no, no, not really. Actually I went because watching them is like a free soap opera. Yeah, Jerrett's family were a bunch of nutso shizo kooks. Crazier than Rihanna in that music video, hon. So anyway, we went to their house, and we were watching a video of a concert that Jerrett's dad was recorded in--he's a preacher--and there was this weirdly-placed cut in the middle of the video, so Jerrett said it looked like it was edited.

"Ye--no, really, Einstein?" I said, staring blandly at the baldy.

"What the hell did you say?!" his dad Klarenz shouted at him in this weird voice that made him sound like a chain smoker.

"Well, I mean look! It just looks like you edited the video there, that's all,"Jerrett said.

"Who do you think you is anyway, Jerrett? The nerve of you, boy!" he foamed, waddling upstairs. "You just mad 'cause you ain't a part of this family! You ain't nothin' but a stepchild, you and Deitlinde!"

... Yeah. Seriously, what is it with black people and broken families?

"Whoa, whoa, what is the big deal? Now you're just gon' make this into a hole big thing, right? All I said was the video looked--"

"Shut the hell up, you little pansy punk bastard! You ain't gon' sit up in here, and talk to my daddy that way!" Jerrett's brother Dave screamed; yeah, everyone must've been drunk that night.

"Really, throwin' this little hissy fit all just because I said that ... that's a pussy move."

"What did you say?!"

"Pussy. P-U-S-S-Y. Pussy. Can you use it in a sent--" Jerrett got cut off when Dave clubbed him in the face and knocked him right the hell out.

Yep, then there was just a bunch of screaming and random people pulling knives on each other. It was just like those little riots in Detroit. Deitlinde, Jerrett's sister, started whining and trying to get their mom Sista' Hayden upstairs safely. Just a bunch of whining and "No!"'s and "Why's our family gotta be this way?"'s and "The power of Christ compels you!"'s. Tamara and me just sat there and drank some soda, giggling up a storm.

"This is just sad," Tamara laughed.

"Shoot. Girl, you ain't never led."

Then Tamara's kids Xavier, McKenzie and DeVon came in screaming and crying like little punks. And I swear, everybody else almost jumped on them. It's like Jerrett's family just needs an excuse to beat the living crap out of people in the name of Jesus. Whoo, that whole night was funny. What suckers.


Now my other cousin Charlie was getting ready to marry LaTina, so she'd be his fifth wife ... or was it his sixth? Seventh? Eighth? Charlie used to make lots of money. Used to. He was making plenty money when he and LaTina got married. How suspicious ... I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger or anything. I'm just saying girlfriend proposed to him when she saw his checkbook and then filed for divorce the day those zeros started dropping. Just saying. Not saying she's a gold digger ... just, you know, just saying.

'K,'K, anyhow, I was helping LaTina put on her dress. That thing was tacky. Charlie-boy made lots of money, but apparently he couldn't waste that precious green on a dress that didn't look like he bought it from a shop of sexual roleplay costumes or ripped it off of a twenty-dollar whore. She looked like a streetwalker. I mean seriously, I've seen Janet Jackson dressed in less whorish clothes, you know? I was expecting girlfriend to lose her bras and those gaudy little drawers she stole from Charlie' dresser. They thought dressing up in each other's clothes was romantic. I was considering bringing some itching powder next time I went to see that loving couple, but as I said, they broke up the next week ... oh, I didn't say that, did I? Ye--uh, the thing is, homeboy's cash started waning faster than an old fart's libido just about a week after the wedding. I ain't sayin' she's a gold digger ... I'm just saying ...

So when I was helping her get dressed and everything, she started telling me about how she was nervous and starting to have cold feet and all. I almost gagged. Bleh, all that sappy, mushy crap made me cringe.

"Oh ... oh, Spirit, I can't thank you enough for all this support you're giving me, I mean ... Charlie's such a great man and ... I'm just a ditz. I really don't deserve him ... I ..." then she broke out crying.

OK, was this for real? This little dumb mannish tavern wench Jezebel hussy getting all teary-eyed just because somebody like Charlie was desperate enough to settle for her? Yeah, really. I wanted to laugh, but I didn't want to be insensitive ... but then I said "Screw sensitivity" and bust out laughing.

"You're having cold feet? Uh, ye--uh, you do realize Charlie's the one having second thoughts, right?"

"Wh-what do you mean?"

"Well, he's just sort of nervous, you being his eleventh wife and all."

"Wha--his eleventh wife? What in the--"

"Shoot! Girl, honey, you didn't know?! The guy's a huge player. He even dated several women during each of his marriages. I'd say you have about a few months with him."

"No, nuh-uh. I don't care about what he's done before, all that matters is the man he is now. He's got a lot of money and--"

"Money. Yeah. Uh-huh. All right LaTina, go on and marry the man. I'm so happy for you ... but darling, this dress, it ... it ... it makes you look sort of plump in the booty area, you know what I mean?"

Yeah, I was loving this. For real for real.

"Oh, you think I need to lose wait? Oh, I knew it. I ... I ... Spirit, hang on. I need to go to the restroom for a second."

So she went to the bathroom, and a while later I heard a gagging sound. What was she, a high school cheerleader? Can't fit in with the popular girls unless you're a size two, sweetie!


So it was Tamara's son McKenzie's birthday. We went to Chuck E. Cheese's. McKenzie got a bunch of nice presents he didn't deserve, the little brat punk. But DeVon was in total hate mode, and he got all pissed whenever McKenzie got a gift.

"Mommy, why didn't I get a Power Wheels brand truck and a huge cake?! Why? Why?! Why?!"

Because, genius, it's not your birthday. Not that anyone ever cares about the little nitwit's birthday anyway. I don't even remember what day it is. Or for that matter, how old is he?

Tamara made sure Chuck E. understood--it's suspicious when a children's mascot has the same name as a possessed doll who goes on unstoppable killing sprees--not to come to the birthday table, but the little fruitcake did it anyway. McKenzie cried like an ungrateful rape victim, seriously. Me and their older brother Xavier bust out laughing like crazy. The little prick was running all over the place. I'm kind of glad Chuck is such a disobedient fellow, you know? Seeing little kids crying and running away from anthropomorphic mouse people is just to die for. Yeah, like, seriously.

"'K, is this little punk serious? Are you actually crying because some stupid little rat is coming over to sing songs to you? Wha-what, you go to Chuck E. Cheese's on your birthday and just expect a casual lunch with no music and freaky costumes? Bet when you're older you're gonna go to bars and raves and actually act all shocked and surprised when some guy comes up to you dressed like a fairy princess. For real," I scoffed.

Then the whole party got busted up when some stupid couple started engaging in some good ol' fisticuffs at their kid's birthday. Ye--great parenting, lunatics. Teaching your kid that it's OK for a guy to try and pop a cap in his babymomma's ass in public, and at a kids' pizza joint no less. Xavier and I were chuckling like crazy when the po-po came and dragged their sorry asses out on the street and shoved them into the police car. That was a fun birthday party; then we all went back to church. Great, more drama.


Oh come on, this is one I just couldn't get over. See, Tamara goes to this really weird church--it makes more sense to call it a circus because it has more freaks than the Jackson and Osbourne families combined--where the preacher is this really creepy preachy pedophile-looking guy. Yeah, dude made Wacko Jacko look like he didn't fancy little boys. Anyway, we were at the Hayden residence again. Thank God there were no more random family showdowns. So Tamara was on the phone with her pastor. I knew whatever they were talking about could make for some juicy gossip, so I snuck upstairs and picked up the phone so I could eavesdrop just like I did when she and Jerrett were in their rooms for alone time. Then I listened to the conversation and wrote it down on a piece of paper. I don't remember exactly what they sa--oops, got the paper right here. Mm'K, let's see ... all right, here it goes.

Bishop: Sista' Tamara, you and you're beautiful voice are truly a blessing unto this ministry, darling.

Tamara: Thanks, Bishop. You know, I--

Bishop: Yeah, sista'. Brotha' Jerret sure is a lucky man to have a beautiful wife like you.

Tamara: Thank you, I apprecia--

Bishop: I mean, my wife's even older and greasier than Maya Angelou. She ain't got supple bosoms like you, sista' Tamara.

Tamara: Uh ... OK ... all-all right. Thanks, Bishop ... I ... ju--

Bishop: Mmm, yeah, you sure do have one fine pair of round, supple, tender breasts, sista'. They're like a couple o' big ol' basketballs.

Tamara: ... What the hell are--

Bishop: But I bet they're a lot softer ... soft as a little baby boy's bottom. Boy, I tell ya. Jerrett's a lucky man. Tamara, let me tell you something.

Tamara: I'm hanging--

Bishop: If Jerrett ever decides that he don't want you no more ... if Jerrett ever decides that, Tamara ... girl, I promise, I will take yo' thick ass.

Tamara: ... Uh, yeah. I'm hanging up.

Me: Don't hang up now! You're this close to wooing her! Idn't that right, Tammy-girl? Idn't it?

Tamara: Uh ... yeah, OK ... wow.

Oh yes, that killed me. This world is full of schizo nutso people, ain't it?

In Closing

Everyone on the planet is an insane lunatic. They're all just pawns in my game of gossip. I can't wait until the next family get-together so I can get some more stories to tell when I'm out with my girls. Yep, life is good if you're me. But don't worry, my family isn't always psycho. There are days when they're just idiots. Poor me, having to take care of their dumb asses. Well, it's been real, but I've sort of gotta go. I need to get back to writing my burn book. See ya later!

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