In the South, we have traditionally accepted family-members or friends that would have been considered crazy, or borderline mentally ill, as merely overly sensitive, prone to hysteria, hot-blooded, eccentric, going through the change, and our all-time favorite, "it runs in the family". As I sit here trying to come up with a blog concerning the grand-opening of Daphne’s Cottage, nothing comes to mind. I can only think of the women in my family, women and their struggles, and how we as women can pull ourselves up by the bootstraps and change our lives for the better. One particular story comes to mind.
Local man flees the scene of his soon-to-be ex-wife’s home after wife gains bionic strength and throws a fully-lit charcoal grill and two ribeye-steaks thirty feet through the air, landing upon the back of the once-devastatingly handsome, but now overweight barefoot flatulent man. Witnesses say the man ran, screaming for his life! One witness claimed to see one of the steaks bounce off the back of his head and the other slamming into his back and clung for dear life for another ten feet. Sparks and flames flew off the scared and startled man as he wildly patted his head and shirt, which led him to trip. Finally, bionic-woman caught up to the bewildered, dazed and confused man. More witnesses claim when redneck-man rolled onto his back they saw the look of Satan in the powerful woman’s eye. And down came a fishing-rod, missing his private-area by one inch. Again, he took off, finally reaching his prized possession: his fifty-thousand dollar pickup-truck. Off he went, shirtless, into the night, only to be heard from a few nights later, when he called the goddess bionic-woman and begged for some of his clothes, belongings, hunting-gear, fishing-gear, and his antique, priceless Gibson guitar. Bionic-woman laughed sweetly, and replied, “Why, of course. I shall leave them in a box, at the end of the dirt-road on our horse-farm.” He thanked her, thinking he got one over on her.
The princess, being much more of a cunning creature, smiled to herself as chills ran all over her body when she pictured herself hidden behind a tree, watching the ignorant, useless man open the box only to find his clothing had been halfway-burned and then extinguished with a bucket of black paint. This scene would never leave her, and every time she thought upon it, she would always feel better when she heard of nasty things men do. As she crouched behind the tree, waiting for his arrival, she couldn’t help but think back to a year ago, when she first met him: dashing, handsome, charming, a real man’s man. He was tall, broad-shouldered, strong, fit, meaty hands; he oozed masculinity, and strongly resembled Russell Crowe in the movie Gladiator. He also told her that he was wealthy, owned his own business, and told her he shared all of her same beliefs and morality. Never did she think that a year later, he would gain forty pounds and she would discover that his two front teeth were missing from a long-ago bar-room brawl, and he somehow forgot to mention his insatiable appetite for all things fried, and his uncontrollable flatulence-problem after smoking two to three joints of marijuana every night, .
She heard his pickup-truck turn the corner, and out bounced the fat, mentally challenged man. He bent over to open the box. As he saw the contents, he began to hyperventilate, screech, scream, and grunt. He kicked the box and stomped on his charred belongings. What a thrill this was for her to see. She wondered when he would realize his three-thousand dollars worth of hunting and fishing gear and priceless Gibson guitar were missing from the box. You see, the beautiful bombshell had sold these items to the little wiener’s very own cousin. What trouble that would cause, she could only hope. Another thought dawned on bionic-woman. she wondered if he knew she had one-hundred percent cleaned-out his check and savings account. She had ruined the little dog-dookie completely.
Later that night, the phone rang. It was the redneck's big momma, a massive, redneck woman, with one foot high teased hair, blue eye-shadow, polyester suits, and a massive belly that prevented her any glance at her va-jay-jay for the past twenty years. This fat woman was either ignorant herself, or one-hundred percent hoodwinked by her son. She managed to produce another daughter, who was so inbred, she ran around town, totally crazy, half-naked, telling people she worked for the FBI and saved children from burning buildings.
Of course, one could find all this tragic, but I don’t. I will leave that to my mother, the goddess of guilt-trips. Anyway, old hefty cow said, “She couldn’t understand why the princess had ruined her son in every way, and sent him back home to live with her in financial ruin.” She lied and said, “Her son was heartbroken and couldn’t get out of bed, and that he was terribly hurt by the soon-to-be divorce and his loss of all of his prized possessions and money he had saved for years.” The princess laughed softly, and could hear the fatass in the background, coaching his fat, old momma what to say. After busting the two, the redneck grabbed the phone. He screamed and panted, “Why did you do it? Do you know what you’ve done? You’re an evil woman from Hell and I’ll get you you crazy bitch!” The princess, all along, died laughing, adding to the little piggy’s anger.
Many moons went by before people heard a peep from fat-lying-flatulent-man. Some still ask, what can a man possibly do to deserve such heinous acts hurled at him? There were many tales answering this question; some lies, some half-truths. I for one, know the truth, because I was there, and witnessed it all. After six months of marriage to a man who lied about the whole money and business thing and said he had a master’s degree and other tall tales, there was thick tension building in the air. Bionic-woman was catching on fast to this fat man’s bullcrap. By fat, I mean he had obtained a gut and an ass the size of a garden-mule from drinking beer and eating everything fried in less than a few months.
It began one steamy, hot day, bionic-woman set out to the grocery-store with her goddess mother, returning home thirty minutes late. Redneck man was irate and jealous, and wanted to know where she was, and why did she have to take his truck to the grocery-store? The redneck man expected the little, feeble-minded woman to have ESP and to know he, the king, wanted to hook up his boat and test it in the water before his fishing-trip with all his other fat redneck menfolk, who we all know for a fact are all gay. Men only want to hang with other men. If you take notice, watch how men get all pumped-up and friendly when their buddies call. They only want to be around women when a leg is cocked up in the air, or when a meal is being prepared. After explaining to the rotten weasel that she took the truck to hold more groceries, he called her a liar, accused her of being a whore and raised his massive, meaty hand that hung from his 6’2", two-hundred and fifty-pound body, and struck the 5’2", hundred-and-fifteen pound dainty princess square in the jaw. The coward then dragged the helpless princess into the house, so the neighbors would not see him take an extra-large crockpot of boiling green beans and dump them all over her, then smash an antique-table, barely missing the dazed and shocked young woman. The big brute then kicked two holes in the wall, followed by a fist. He picked up the keys and said, “Next time, be home on time, you stupid bitch!” Mortified, hurt, and bewildered, the broken-hearted princess picked up the mess, cleaned herself off, and started her plan.
For three days while the pea-brain fished with his male gay counterparts, the bionic diva went on a massive research-mission. By the third day, she discovered the thing she had lived with was not a business-owner at all, he was just an employee. She found that he did not have a Master’s Degree, only a G.E.D. He was on probation for smoking pot and had three prior arrest-convictions. She suddenly realized that she had married a poor, toothless, overweight, pot-smoking, redneck, pathologically lying, and flatulent, devastatingly handsome wife-beater! The shame. How would she face her family? They had all been fooled by his charm, the swaggering good looks, and manners. It had only been a six-month marriage after a whirlwind engagement.
The day the low-down dog got home from his fishing vacation, the black widow was waiting, open arms, kind words, and a five-course fried meal, enough to choke five elephants. She should’ve known she was dealing with a redneck, by the food he ingested. She knew just what to say: “Honey, while you were gone, my parents decided to let me cash in a bond; a very large bond as a late wedding-gift. "Only thing is,” she said, “she needed to be added to his checking and saving’s account in order to deposit the money.”
She let him think he would be much better at managing the money than her. That was a done deal. The gleam in his eyes, picturing himself spending her money on new hunting-gear was hysterical. Never was he more romantic and sweet that night. The scumbag actually thought he was dealing with a dumb blonde airhead. That night, the princess lay in her bed, hardly controlling her evil laughter. Bright and early, they raced to the bank and signed the papers. He patted the good little girl-dog on the head, and wished her a wonderful day, and not to forget to deposit that check. Off he went, so full of pride and ego. The useless twit. That day, she drained his accounts bone-dry! Back at home, the rest of the plan played itself out to perfection. The fat retard’s inbred, black-toothed cousin, who was extremely hot for the princess, came to the house to purchase all the hunting and fishing-gear. Laughing, the cousin said, “If you really wanna make ‘em mad, lemme take a few o’ those gargantuan pot-plants he’s got growin’ back in the trees behind your property.”
A cold chill and thrill went through the little diva’s body. “Hot damn! I will crush him even more!” How could he grow pot-plants so close to our home? Furious, clenching her teeth, the little princess changed that day and became what she is today: an avenger packing heat.
With the phone in one hand and the card of his probation-officer in the other, the pot plants located, she waited. Dead calm. Whoever said revenge is a deadly sin and something that tarnishes the soul is full of dookie, she thought. She thought to herself, at no other time in her life did she feel this much alive, this ecstatic, joyful, electrified, and pure, raw ecstasy.
The hour grew closer. Then she heard the rumbling diesel engine of his truck heading down the dirt-road towards his private Hell. Shoes flung off, shirt disregarded at the front door; he grabbed a beer, a plate of marinated steaks, and headed for the grill. The brave heroine came out and demanded to know why he had lied about his job, his money, cars, probation, pot-plants, and what the hell, two missing front teeth? Why on earth did he not inform her in the beginning that he had these problems? She was taken aback by a series of loud noises that she determined could only be coming from his britches. He told her she was insane. She screamed that she wanted out of the marriage. He bent down and grabbed his knees, and said, “This is what I think of our marriage!” He then pointed his meaty finger in her face and emitted a loud report from his nether region. The noise was so loud, long and thunderous; it scared a flock of crows out of a nearby tree that had been watching the activities. The diva’s strength and bravery grew. She called him a toothless, impotent fat redneck. He started to move toward her. She hit redial, which was programmed to 911, his rage so deep he didn’t notice. The warrior-princess began to scream as if she was being murdered, so the police would get there quicker. The brute pushed her down, cutting open her knee on a rock. Good, she thought. Blood, more evidence for the police.
She rose and called him a raging homosexual, a redneck’s deepest fear. And to this, he threw a bottle of beer at her head. The warrior caught it by some universal force in one hand. Stupefied, the redneck spit at this queen of fury. With this, like a scene out of a movie, wind began to blow; the ground seemed to shift, a bright thunderbolt streaked the sky as dark clouds moved in. The witch-diva’s eyes turned black as coal from a pale green, face snow-white, lips blood-red and stiff. With one swoop, she picked the fully-lit grill up with one hand and held it over her head. The redneck felt a warm trickle of wetness traveling down his leg. He turned to run; she took off after him at an astounding speed in four-inch Jimmy Choo heels. She could smell the little bitch’s fear. With every pounding step he took, several explosive noises reverberated in his britches. The warrior-princess died laughing. At the exact moment, the redneck turned around, she hurled the fully lit grill and 2 steaks into the air at an astounding speed right towards the petrafied fleeing man. Boom! A direct hit!! Sparks, flames, steak juice exploded in mid air, the remnants spraying down upon the running man. One of the hot steaks slapped the man on his cheek. A females blood curdling unholy howl escaped his lips. While jerking movements and grunts took over the redneck, his legs moved up and down stomping the dirt into large tall dustclouds mixed with grill smoke. He began an uncontrollable cough through his screams. He slapped at his back! He pounded his head with his fists! His arms waved frantically through the air! He checked his bulge (or lack of one)! He suddenly tripped and fell! He began to roll! Back and forth he rolled, grunting! Grass and dirt filled his gaping mouth, spitting, kicking, and cussing! He finally realized he was not on fire after all.
When the redneck finally opened his eyes and got to his knees, a horrific thought dawned on him. During his spastic, sporadic, and flailing about tantrum, he lost his retainer, donning his two front teeth in the thick pasture grass. The princess went into wild hysterical laughter! Out of the corner of her eye, she saw it. Swiftly and inconspiciously she walked over to the retainer and put her foot upon it. When he looked away, she bent down and scooped it up. The thought of the fat redneck spending time in jail with no front teeth sent pleasure chills up and down her spine. Sensing her guilt, the redneck scrambled to his feet and started to move towards the princess. The princess slowly pulled a small handgun out of her back pocket, held it in the air, and fired off a shot causing the shocked man to stop in his tracks with eyes wide opened! She then pointed the gun right at him and said, "I will shoot you right in your 'manhood' if you take another step towards me." She heard sirens in the distance coming to her rescue. He bolted towards his truck. Off he went, into the night not knowing the police were down the road waiting for him.
In the end, the princess managed to have the monster arrested for battery, having a controlled substance with the intent to sell, violation of probation, and resisting arrest. She destroyed his life and his reputation. A year later, she sent the redneck's mean-mouthed mother a package. Inside the package was a large amount of broken up wood that once was his priceless Gibson guitar. The point of the story is, no matter where you are, or what struggles you're going through, or who is bringing you down, you can pull yourself up by the bootstraps and make lemonade out of lemons. The other point being, no matter how many news reports you hear about men and their horrific acts, there is always a little woman in a little town, giving back to him what he deserves. Stay tuned for wife chases husband in a brand new cadillac.
Warrior Princess
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