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Mother's Day has come and gone and once again I failed to remember the most important holiday of the year. You know? The one that helps to keep a roof over my head and a couch for me to sleep on under my ass. Why didn't anyone tell me mother's day was here? Momma has been on a toothless rant since Mother's Day ended at midnight! I have been put on her bad side and even if momma had a good side that one wouldn't be so pretty to be on anyway. Now as repayment for my insubordination I am massaging momma's back fat nightly and tending to her feet, trimming away years of street walking madness! The chores would not be so bad if not for the orgasmic sounds bemoaned from momma's mouth while I service her.
Mother's Day is really the same as any other day around here. One thing is different on her special day and that is the fact that she actually acknowledges that I am her son. She does this in order to further enslave my or con me into extra favors for her. Any other day and Momma claims that a crow shit me out on a fence post and that the sun hatched me out. The only reason that she brought me home was because she felt sorry for me. Yes sir, Momma takes full advantage of her day. Generally by the time I make two or three extra booze runs for her, Momma has passed out before ten am. Mommas day for me is spent walking on egg shells to keep her happy, but most of all to keep from waking her after the booze has finally knocked her out cold.
The Day After
Momma staggered in at around ten a.m once again. As I scratched my nether regions in front of Dr. Shuellar and the Crystal Cathedral Momma sobbed that I should not have stayed up so late waiting for her to come home. Switching gears from a sobbing mess to a dramatic role Momma peeled of the "Rodriguez" softball t-shirt and went into grave detail that the number "69" printed on the back meant that this particular bench rider came in as relief after the starting line up had had their fill. Momma apparently has moved up from bowlers to the town's softball league, but of course bowling is out of season by Mother's Day. Obviously The Taco Bell drive thru had paid off for momma late last night. She tossed me the taco Bell sack that she carried exclaiming "here is a treat for you". Fifty six packets of hot sauce...well I had to eat. Momma said that she could have gotten a free toy with her meal but her jaw was sore and the Taco Bell hired help was under age. .
Coming To Terms
Momma still has to work on her day, after all the bills have to be paid and I am not going to work any time soon. I have come to some sort of terms with momma's line of work. Those terms deem that I keep a blind eye turned momma's way and the good eye facing the opposite direction. Some have said that she is into prostitution, but I believe momma is too busy with all of her many, many boyfriends to have time to prostitute. As long as my friendslist on FaceBook continues to grow, my cable remains connected, I have a couch to sleep on and i don't have to work I barely complain. About twenty years ago when I was off to foster care, my Atari was taken from me often for complaining about this or that. Ever since then I have learned to keep my mouth shut most of the time. Coming to Momma's terms continues to pay off for me. It may have been Mother's day but I still come first and am number one in my mind.
The next moring, in an attempt to appease momma for missing her big day I made her blueberry pancakes in bed. If I had an extension chord I could have put the hot plate on the counter top. Momma will be pissed when she sees the blueberry stains mixed in with all the other stains on her sheets! This was the least I could do for her and blueberry pancakes are her favorite. Besides she was sobering up enough to realize that she was sobering up and soon would need me to make a run to the liquor store for her. I served Momma vodka shooters with her pancakes at her request. Not much changes from day to day. Vodka shooters, vodka slammers, flaming vodka martinis, toasting the fire fighters with vodka jello shots. If momma could have had vodka pancakes she would have scarfed up half a dozen or until the inevitable blackout carried her out the door for yet another day or week. Needless to say momma soon forgot all about Mothers Day and I was off the hook. Generally speaking momma forgets about everything after eleven am.
Next month is Father's day which is another one of Momma's favorites. Every year Momma turns out yet another possible father for me. Who knows maybe one of these years momma will get it right and I will have someone to call dad. Maybe his couch will actually fold out into a bed and his roof will be attached to a real house. She says a DNA test is required to prove that my daddy is the one she has been looking for to pay child support. Although I am now in my late twenties I could still use the support. Momma tried to get me aborted but to her disappointment the doctor informed her that a nine year old was far to old to be aborted, but again that is yet another story. See you at Father's Day.
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