Tammie the mother's thoughts

One of these days I’m gonna haul off and slap him.  I am talking about the boy and say this to my husband the old bastard who has not touched me – I mean really touched me – in a very long time, too long to remember even.  I think he may be fucking other women and this tears me up inside but I don’t know what to fucking do about it.  What is it about me that he looks at me and just automatically sees the word shit everywhere?

  
I hate my children.  I know my children all hate me but I also know that is not my fault.

 
You can all just go rot in hell. I say that to the old bard and the boy.  They are both disgusting things.  Maybe on the way home from work tomorrow I’ll be hit by a car and die.  Then they’ll both see how good they had it.  All those bitches at work.  I hate them so much and then I have to come home to this shit. 

I know all he wants is someone to cook for him and clean up after him.  What a bastard.  And you, you ungrateful little shit, all you want is someone to take you places and buy you things.  Don’t be surprised if one of these days I just pack my bags and leave.  

Why aren’t they on their knees and pleading?  Why aren’t they apologizing over and over and telling me how great I am and how they’ll treat me better and that I deserve so much more? 

 
Is there blood pooling between my legs again?  Would anyone like to taste it?

If you talk to me like that ever again you will be out of my life forever.  I love to threaten the boy.  Maybe I’d like him to stick it inside of me.  Would that be so wrong?  We’re fucking family after all?  Family always needs to stick together.  Are you going to deny God?   Don’t talk to me about you’re stupid fucking beliefs because you don’t know shit.  Dumb kid.  

I’m sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  I really didn’t.  I swear.  Why do I do that to him?  Why do I always talk to him like that?  Why did I hit him?  I really didn’t mean to, I swear it.  Please forgive me God.  Please have patience with me son.  I didn’t mean it, I promise.  You don’t deserve that.  I’ll be better.  I’ll buy you something.  Whatever you want.  What was it you saw at the store the other day?  I’ll get that for you.  Let’s go there right now.  

I hope you’re fucking happy for this fucking mood you put me in!  I’m going to send the boy to talk to him.  That old bastard can believe what he wants.  His fucking bitch of a mother never liked me.  They can both go rot in hell.  I can use the boy to make her look bad.  I’m not giving him a cent for her fucking funeral.  Knowing that bitch, she’ll want the most expensive casket, the most expensive service, every fucking thing and I’m not spending my hard earned money on that shit.  That spoiled rotten little shit can go talk to him and he’ll see what a stupid fuck his own mother is.  I laugh when I send the boy.  Maybe he’ll feel some of the old bastard’s wrath.  He deserves it; he talks back to me way too much.

The boy’s afraid of me.  I can see it in his eyes.  The louder I scream and the more I push the more afraid he is.  I love that.  I love the way he turns pale when I start to scold him for something, when he can see how bad it is going to get.  Little coward shit.  Dumb kid.  Then I play so put upon when that old bastard treats me like shit.  He sees the word shit written all over me.  But the boy is rightly afraid.  I’ve made him cry.  How many times?  I’m not sure but I know he’s deserved more.  It’s good to see him cry now and then and see him show some fucking respect.  What’s that?  Yeah, I think I do feel just a little wet when it happens, when I’m yelling I can feel it too, that nice little stirring right down there.  The old bastard never does it for me anymore but this is nice.  

You little shit, you are so fucking ungrateful for everything.  All I do for you and this is how you treat me.  You are going to be so sorry one day for how you treated me.  I don’t give a fuck if it is you’re birthday.  You are just one fucking disappointment after another.  I’m not jealous of my other kids!  You can go live with that bitch any fucking time you want.  Ungrateful little shit.  Dumb kid. 

You’re going to hell.  You lied to me and liars go to hell.  You lied to your fucking mother you fucking stupid kid and you’re going straight to hell.  What an ungrateful piece of shit.  Most kids would die to have a mother like you do.  I never treated my parents this way.  

You are not the parent you ungrateful little shit!  I can talk to you however the hell I want!  You just sit your ass down and take it.  Let me throw this at the boy.  I love throwing things at him instead of handing it to him.  He is just like a fucking dog.  I throw something at him and he’ll run and chase it, groveling and sad.  Always whining, always crying.  You look so fucking ugly.  Just a dumb kid.  And that old bastard.  Neither one of them know how good they have it.  I think I won’t talk to them for a week.  Yeah, that’s it.  Then they’ll realize what they’ve been missing and see how much they need me.  

I don’t talk much about my own mom with them.  She must have been quite a raving bitch though, am I right?  

Shall I bathe in piss tonight?

I am repulsive and disgusting.  I am not a woman.  I am an it, an ugly miserable fucking it.  At least that’s what someone else thinks.  I know they’re wrong.  I will know everyone is wrong until the day I die.