Momma has been staying at the house this week. Her boyfriend got upset when the local grocery discontinued the sale of RC cola, so he went on a bender in protest. Now, thanks to this fuckin’ retard, I have to put up with her shit until he gets back on the wagon in a week or so. All of that aside, Momma is a crazy bitch. She is tougher than most men I’ve met. I’ve seen her yank a dude out of Chevette by the back of his mullet and commence to kickin’ the dog shit out of him.
Along with Momma comes her passion for watching the neighbors’ kids. It is nothing for Momma to have 6 or 7 kids running around the house while their parents are out getting shit-faced and trying to make more babies. Of course, that bullshit isn't going to fly at my casa. I told her only one kid is allowed in the "Stabbin’ Cabin" at a time. The only reason I agreed to that was because she gets pissy and I didn't feel like getting slapped across the lips with a fuckin’ fly swatter later on in the evening. So this particular night, little Eugene was the lucky kid.
While Momma is in the master bedroom giving Eugene a bath in the garden tub, I’m in the living room watching “The Lost Episodes of Hee-Haw.” Then there was a knock on the door which signaled the chain of events that was about to begin.
It was Charlene, the fuckin’ ex-wife. Of course, "The Bitch" is fucked up on wine coolers and Xanax and is wanting some money. I told her simply, "Bitch. Momma is here. You better leave if you know what is good for you.” "Fuck that bitch!" was the statement that came out of her mouth and, thus, the first shot was fired in what was about to be one helluva ass whoopin’.
Momma comes rushing out of the back carrying Eugene, who was wrapped up in a Sponge Bob Square Pants beach towel. (Eugene is ten years old, by the way.)
Momma says to Charlene, "Bitch! You better get the fuck out of this trailer before I tear your ass up! I ain’t gonna have you in here talking crazy in front of this kid!" (I think the irony of that statement was lost on Momma.)
I issue my standard comment for these instances, "Hey! Everybody be cool..." Unfortunately, it was too late for such advice. Charlene had already got the shit started and it was about to get ugly.
Charlene says to us, "What the fuck ever! I ain’t leavin’ until I get my Sponge Bob beach towel back. That's my shit you fuckin’ hard on!"
About the same time that statement was made, Charlie Daniels was introduced by Buck Owens to play his new hit song, The Devil Went Down to Georgia. Momma rips the Sponge Bob towel off of Eugene and the beat down was about to begin nice and proper. Momma screams, "You want this towel bitch!? You’re gonna take it home stuffed up your sorry whore ass!"
Charlene starts to run, but unfortunately for her, it was too late. Momma grabs her by the back of the pants and is trying to rip them off in order to carry through with her threat of sending Sponge Bob on a trip up her turd cutter. As Charlene is screaming and struggling to keep her pants up, little Eugene is standing there, butt ass nekkid, eating a Chick-O-Stick that he picked up off the counter and crying. I’m yelling to the bitch "I told you stupid!" I should remind you that all of this is happening with The Devil Went Down to Georgia playing in the background like a motherfucking soundtrack.
Momma, unable to get Charlene’s britches down, wraps the Sponge Bob towel around her neck and drags her out the front door and throws her down the stairs. Her pants catch on a nail that’s sticking out and rip her pants. Charlene is running toward the street, her shredded pants around her ankles, with Momma in hot pursuit. As funny as that whole picture was, I started to feel bad for Charlene. Not to mention, I didn't want the cops over at the trailer tonight because of a certain pound of a certain leafy substance that was in the back bedroom.
I chase Momma down, with Nekkid Eugene running right behind me and pull her off of Charlene. This gave Charlene just enough time to crawl into her Nova and get the hell out of there.
Momma, myself and Nekkid Eugene are standing in the driveway as the bitch pulls away. We are staring, in silence, at the Sponge Bob towel lying in the road that started this whole fiasco. Momma says, "Fuckin’ Sponge Bob..." I nod my head in agreement. This isn't the first time a brawl has broken out in the trailer because of Sponge Bob. I would love to go down to that pineapple under the sea and kick his little yellow porous ass. Just one time.