Cathy’s Acai Blog Trick Teeth Mom Secret

God, I am so sick of where I live and my living conditions. The other day I got a magazine in the mail and Dad came in and was all like, “ARE YOU PAYING FOR THIS?” and I was like, “WITH MY ALLOWANCE!” God, then he started telling me a bunch of shit and I thought I would just kill myself. Everything fucking sucks. All I wanted was a subscription to a magazine. I can pay for it. I make money myself and Dad doesn’t even know. God, I wish he would just die. Some girlfriend of his should slice off his dick and throw it out onto the street. Ew, I don’t want to think of my dad’s penis. I looked back towards my house and I saw him looking out the window.

I went to Beth’s house and knocked on her window. I was crying, so she had to come outside. Fucking moron. I tried telling her about what happened, but she was texting some fucking guy. Fucking asshole shithead slut. I went inside and she was saying something half-heartedly about “Just give it some time” or some such shit, and I totally went into her kitchen and started drinking her mom’s vodka. It tasted like hot shit, that’s what. Beth started freaking out, whispering “Don’t drink that! My mom will see you!” I totally hit it again until she yanked it out of my mouth, hitting my fucking teeth on the neck of the bottle.

Immediately some of the vodka in my mouth spilled out onto her tiled floor in a spatter. I slapped her phone out of her hand and it fell and broke right on top of the vodka. She started whispering something else, afraid her fucking mom would hear. I yelled “MRS. SMITH! YOU’RE DAUGHTER IS ACTING CRAZY!” and Beth fucking froze. That bitch’s mom came in and saw the vodka and Beth’s new phone and looked up at Beth and started to yell. I left in the middle of it, those fucking morons.

I walked down to the cemetery. I knew before going to Beth’s that I was going to visit Mom. I felt sort of peaceful, knowing that fat slut was going to get hit by her drunk-ass mom. Ha, nd her new phone… fucking bitch deserved it. I started feeling a bit somber as I walked along the chain-link fence surrounding the city’s graveyard. The grass was so well-cut, and the street lights had yet to come on, so the lighting was perfect.

I reached mom’s grave and immediately started crying. I lied on top of it, feeling strangely at ease in the perfectly-cut grass. The bouquet I put near the headstone was getting faded. I felt mad at myself for not keeping up with it like I used to.

I spent the next hour lying down. Eventually the street lights came on, and I put my back against the front of the headstone. My head hurt from crying, but the cool breeze soothed it. I felt so tired so suddenly. I closed my eyes. I imagined Mom making breakfast the next morning, as if nothing had ever happened. Dad was off on one of his old business trips, and we had the whole house to ourselves. Something about the pancakes she used to make tasted so good… like lemons and sugar were cut into the batter. I felt a perfect sense of satisfaction as her hands turned on the TV and my favorite shows came on. I would have not done it so eagerly in the past, but I ran up to Mom sitting on the couch and laid my head on her lap. Sometime later, we might go to the grocery store or maybe I would sit in the car, finding old memo pads of hers and drawing in them while she ran errands at the bank.

Suddenly I woke up and Dad was picking me up off the ground. I started crying, hating him as I was being taken away from the good memories behind me. He interpreted it as grief from my mother’s death, and started apologizing for everything that had happened earlier. We sat in the car and he had the fucking nerve to go to Burger King and buy me a shake without asking me. I don’t fucking like shakes anymore, you stupid dick. I sipped it anyway, as he started making promises to be nicer, and that he was going to let me keep the magazine subscription. “Hell, I’ll pay for it if you want me too, Sweetie…”