Good evening, Bitchfaces, and welcome to this episode of “I’m going to wind up with 4, 5 felonies on me tonight”. Please, allow me to fucking angrily digress.
Y’all know Puffin. Stands 1’4 with a terrible attitude, loves gummy bears and getting on my fucking nerves.
Right.
My everything.
When I say that I will destroy anything that means her harm, that’s no exaggeration. Don’t misconstrue. If you hurt my babygirl, I’ll take everything from your neck down and split you like a 7th grade Biology frog.
Please. Fucking. Play with me.
So, enter some little fucking man-child in a jacked-up diesel, because his momma and daddy had 80k to throw at a truck for him, but not the good sense to teach this little douchebag how to act like a decent human being. I do, though. I’ve got lots of good sense, and I’m happy to intervene.
Puffin is my road dog, my partner in crime, always in my shotgun seat, and always on my hip, because if she can’t see me, she’s too far away and she’s doubling back. Know this before we begin. My dog can be on a full harness, she’s the exact same distance from me always. Which is right the fuck under my feet.
We go to the post office to check the Bitchface bills and such, and as we exit, the man-child is blowing down a residential, 20 mile an hour street doing somewhere around 60. Close enough to my baby dog for it to blow her fur.
Oh, fuck no, son.
I yell, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”, and some other shit because I cuss in fluent paragraphs. How about this little shitbag has the balls to stop, lean out the window, say a few entitled prickisms to me, all the way until I say, “I’m gonna let her go if you step out of that truck”.
He decided against tangling with Puffin, but I have all my money on the fact that he would have toted an ass whippin from a girl, and real fast. I don’t play about my dog. Not even a little.
Seeing as how I’m in a town of about 400 people and I’m excitedly relaying the ramifications of injuring my little diva bitch dog, this draws a crowd. As I explain what has taken place between myself and the little fucker, I learn who this little douchebag is, and also who his daddy is.
Spectacular.
Cue the Bitchface, because fuck you, little boy. You want to call names and get aggressive. Cool. Do that in front of your fucking daddy, because I want him to know what he raised. Spoiler alert: it ain’t shit.
I’ll have y’all know, I could have been the Wicked Witch of the West for the speed and cackling I put into telling someone’s daddy that they failed miserably at raising a respectful young man, and also, he should repeat drivers ed at least 4, maybe 5 fucking times.
Let me emphasize the fact that I was, and still am, hopping fucking mad about it. You say what you want to me, you harm a hair on that furry little bitch, I’ll compress your fucking chest plate like a xylophone, and that’s not me being a bitch. That’s me doing my job as her momma.
Sorta like how someone should have done with that little asshole.
If y’all wondered if I mean it when I say I’ll burn this bitch to the ground about her, you don’t have to. I mean every single word. I don’t have any chill when it comes to her, so please don’t fuck around. I’m 100% going to deliver the find out.
-Q
As it should be