You Want a Piece of Me?

I just had a Near Death Experience, of the narrowly-avoided-the sister-in-law variety.

I could handle her when I was three sheets to the wind, or high as the proverbial kite, but brother, let me tell you-not since I gave up the booze, pills and antidepressants.

I’m desperately sober these days, and have a Zero Tolerance for Bullshit of Any Kind and she is the QUEEN of cocksuckery.

I won’t be petty and go into the gory details, but she just bought a house at the beach. Hey, I’m happy for her-and to be quite frank? The further away she is, the better.

I was standing at the kitchen sink when my spidey senses alerted to be to trouble in River City.

“What gives?,” read my thought cloud.

Hey, my husband says, my sister wants us to give her a free chord of wood, Imagine that, he chuckles.

She is the epitome of stank assery.

Somofabitch.

I sage my house in anticipation.

I rage.

I work myself into a frenzy, and am more than a bit relieved when her husband comes for the handout.

I can’t help myself.

“Just put the money on the counter, I’m off to the store,” I say to him.

I could give a fig about financial compensation, it’s the unmitigated nerve.

He laughs.

Hahahahahaha.

I fantasize about knocking his lights out.

A girl can dream.

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