My parents weren't the worst. I mean, sure, they never whored me and my sister out, or beat us within an inch of our lives, or starved us or anything but all things considered; they were pretty piss poor as parental units.
Case in point, my name is Prudy and my sister's name is Trudy and we're identical twins. Yeah, don't believe all that Shakespearean crap about a rose by any other name. I mean talk about starting out with a fucking handicap in the game of life.
Actually, I always felt I got the short straw in that equation. In fact, now that I'm of legal age and my sister and I are about to receive one motherfucking large lump cash sum I am going to do the exact opposite of exactly what the fuck people expect a Prudy to do.
Yep, I'm gonna go out an find me an industrial size bag of dicks and get busy. Any takers?
But, I digress. This is a place to divulge true horror; is it not? Well, then let me tell you the horrors that my sister and I had to endure.
My mom and dad went Splitsville right after 9/11. Yep, while all us Americans were freaking out with Code Orange terror alerts my Dad was packing up his bags and abandoning my Mom and me and my sister. He'd decided that his stupid secretary with her perfect silicon titties was worth busting our family up over.
My mom, seemed nonplussed as she had recently discovered Jesus Christ as her lord and savior. She threw out all our rock albums and stopped smoking weed and started insisting we all wear dresses past our knees and go to the fucking born again church every Sunday for some endless sermon about casting our sins in the water. What fucking water? We live in the middle of Omaha fer crissakes; no pun intended.
Then mom hooked up with Born Again Bob and it wasn't long before he moved in and started getting a little too friendly with me and Trudy.
That would have been 2003 when we were ten years old. It started with too long hugs that were creepy enough and then the bible bedtime stories that could have put a die hard tweaker into a coma and quickly progressed to little morality plays about Sodom and Gomorrah that quickly progressed into vaginal exploration for Satan's minions. The worst part was Bob smelled like Funyuns all the time.
Now, the motherfucking horrific part is I fucking told my Mom about Funyun Bob and his bedtime shenaningans and she said that clearly Satan had taken hold of me and I would have to be annointed with oil and otherwise exorcised of my malevolent blah blah blah....
When I told my Dad, hoping for a more appropriate response, he simply said, "I'll talk to your mother," which was followed a couple of days later by, "Your mother says you two are growing up to be liars, I did not raise my girls to be liars. I will not abide liars in my family."
Me and Trudy were pulled out of school so that Bob and my mom could home school us. That involved mostly being annointed with oil and when mom was at Walmarts, KY Jelly. I tried to protect Trudy by sacrificing myself to Bob so she wouldn't have to suffer through his, "ministrations", but Trudy was losing it fast and despite my disbelief in any messianic action; I seriously started praying that I wouldn't lose my best friend and be trapped all alone with mom and skeevy Bob.
Well, I'd like to tell you that praying really works but I'd be lying like the rug because...
Thanksgiving 2013The turkey was on the table with all the trimmings. Bob had just finished asking me for a hand in the garage changing the oil on our shitty clunker because, "girls shouldn't be candy pants useless." We came back into the house after Bob was done checking my oil and were ready to sit down to our repast when Trudy suddenly stood up to make an announcement.
"Mom, Bob? I want you to know that I have tried but I cannot stop seeing visions of Satan. There is," she said pulling out her favorite troll pencil from her back pocket, "only one way...."
I tried to stop her but she was too fast. And in just a few seconds my beautiful sister stabbed her eyes out with her now bloodied troll pencil. Bob and my mom didn't even want to call 911, they wanted to call Pastor Fred for a faith healing session but I sneaked off to the kitchen and called 911 myself.
The doctors worked for hours to save Trudy's eyes but when all was said and done she was blind and institutionalized for an entire year. They let her out last Thanksgiving and now she's on a smorgasbord of medications for her poor worried mind. I swore I'd protect my younger sister but alas I failed. I do confess I was really glad to have her back and I was determined to be her eyes for her and somehow find a way out for the both of us.
Christmas 2014It was last Christmas eve and we were all driving to church in the worst rain I've ever seen in my life. The kind that just falls in sheets and causes everyone to drive really really slow. Suddenly the car started to bounce something awful and Bob turned on his hazards and pulled over to the side of the road.
"It looks like the darn car's got a flat."
"Oh, dear," was my mom's brilliant retort. "What will we do?"
"Oh, I'll just have to put on the spare."
"Prudy, why don't you give me a hand?"
Now, whenever Bob asked me for a hand I don't want to tell you where he made me put that hand so I'll just leave it to your imagination.
"Oh gosh, do I have to?" I protested. "It's raining buckets out there."
"It's the Christian thing to do, dear," my mom said.
Out in the rain Bob got the jack out and went about changing the tire.
"Hey Prudy, I think the cars leaking oil. Why don't you scooch down and take a look."
I scooched down to look under the car and said, "I don't see no oil, Bob."
"Why sure you do, you little Jezebel! And we're gonna scooch down under the car and you're gonna check ol' Bob's dipstick."
"Okay, Bob. If you insist."
Well Bob got under that car ready to get his dipstick attended to.
"What're you waiting for Jezebel?" Bob asked impatiently while he unzipped.
But before I could get down to check Bob's dipstick the car made an awful lurching sound. I guess Bob hadn't gotten the jack right cause the car just slipped right off it and collapsed on poor Bob before I could accommodate his nastiness.
On the bright side at least Bob died saved by Jesus. In fact, when the car collapsed on him he wasted no time talking to god although he couldn't quite get past the name part.
When the cops and fire department came and finally got the car off old Bob he was dead from a heart attack and everybody wondered why his pants were unzipped but nobody made a federal case out of it or anything. Mom was all busted up but Trudy smiled for the first time in years.
Every night before bed she'd whisper to me, "Can you smell that?"
And I'd always answer, "Smell what?"
And she'd say, "The smell of Bob burning in hell."
After Bob died mom really lost it and wouldn't leave the house. And since Trudy couldn't get around so good everything fell on me to keep our little household going. It was on another rainy Friday when Trudy and I were out food shopping that I casually remarked, "Mega Millions is up to eighty million."
Trudy squeezed my arm and said, "Look what I brought."
It was Trudy's troll pencil. The one she stabbed her sight into oblivion with.
"It's a magic pencil," she continued. "And it is gonna pick the winning mega millions numbers."
"Sure Trudy," I said.
And wouldn't you know it. The troll giveth and the troll taketh away. That troll and Trudy's hand picked the damned winning numbers plus the powerball. I told Trudy to keep it to herself and I drove straight to a lawyer's office and gave him the ticket for safe keeping. Then I visited my Dad at his job to tell him I had some important news to tell him. Boy, did he get excited but he promised to keep it a secret until I could sit down with him and Mom.
"Mom's been in such a fragile state I think you should be there when I tell her."
"Anything for my favorite daughter."
Later that night at our first family reunion since 9/11 I told the parental units the good news that I was now worth an ungodly sum. My dad suggested that we all get back together as a family and I honestly couldn't have been happier. But I guess the news was a little too much for the parental units because they immediately hit the bottle of champagne I had on ice and I guess they overdid it because before too long the two of them were passed out colder than a Minnesota winter.
"I guess the excitement was too much for them," Trudy said.
"Wanna go for ice cream?" I asked. "My treat."
I wish I could tell you we lived happily ever after but we returned home from the Dairy Queen to tragedy. The carcass of our home was up in flames that took the fire department hours to extinguish. Turns out we were leaking gas on the very night my family was to become whole again.
On the bright side there's a doctor I found in Asia who has been restoring sight to the blind using cutting edge stem cell treatments so me and Trudy are going to be flying out of the country first class tomorrow. And before we leave I wanted to do the Christian thing by my stepmom. She was so excited when I told her I was going to make sure she and her babies would be taken care of, especially since my Dad didn't have any life insurance or nothing.
"I don't want you to open this until I leave," I told her, handing her the envelope with her salvation enclosed therein.
"I just want you to know that I always was here for you and Trudy." were her last words to me before I drove off.
I just wish I could have seen her face when she saw I got her those all inclusive tickets for her and the kids to that swanky Christian retreat in the smoky mountains and roundtrip Greyhound bus tickets. I'm sure once she gets in touch with the baby Jesus she'll have no trouble moving past the tragedy.
If you can say anything about me it's that I always take care of my family.
Well, thanks for letting me get this off my chest. You might also be interested to know that I'm planning to legally change my name toLady Death. What's in a name you ask? Everything.needs no eraser
From Crucifiction by Krafto Matix.
