defunctjunk

OK, Im officially now keeping a log of every time Mitch takes his shitty aggression and resent for being laid off out on me. Im not going to stand for it anymore. Ok, well, Ill start with tonights episode. This particular one, this one got my blood boiling. Ive decided that for the duration of my stay at the Mitch Estate, Im not going to be a prisoner. Not only that, but Im not going to be his fucking punching back that he can take his fucking aggression out on for being laid off. Its just not gonna happen. See, Im pretty afraid to walk out of my room now. Now that the Mitch is unemployed, he spends his time either in his office, on the couch, or sleeping in his room. So, those areas are now danger zones 24/7. Whereas before, they werent hazardous until the twilight hours; now, its constant. His mere presence just generates a bad energy throughout the house. And keep in mind that its not a typical, everyday nasty Mitch Energy. No, this time its extra foul. Its now a Mitchs been laid off and hes MAD energy. Hes always finding something to fucking gripe about with me. Before it was minimal; now, its to-the-max. So, its about 2:30 in the morning on Friday the 26th of April, 2003. I go downstairs to get a quick something to eat. I figure, Ill open my door quietly, tip-toe downstairs, grab something, perhaps refill my water, and everything should be fine and dandy. Well, the first two steps go off without a hitch. Its when I get downstairs that I hear the unmistakable sound of late-night infomercials, accompanied by the TVs glow seeping out into the hallway, adjacent to the living room. So, I figure my dads probably asleep on the couch, in his underwear per usual. Well, I go to refill my water and I hear him sternly ask, Adam? Now, upon first hearing his voice, my first instinct is to get angry. Id just wanted to get some food and head back to my retreat. I didnt want any interaction with anyone; didnt want any having to answer questions; I just wanted some fucking food. Ok, well, on his behalf, I take into account that maybe he just assumed it was me, but simultaneously hoped it was Lorraine. I mean, it makes sense. Maybe if it were his wife, he could get a late-night BJ in the kitchen. So, after his questioning me, I respond, yes, why? to which I get no response. This is not out of the ordinary with him. I usually have to ask him 2 or 3 times something until I get a response. I dunno if its a hearing problem or hes just a FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT. Either way, he finally responds with, nothing, I just wanted to know who it was. Ok, its irritating that I have to identify myself at 2:30 in the morning, yes. But can I live with it? Yes. Ok, so after having filled my glass up with water, I head over to the cupboard to see what I can find. I mean, I know its late but Im hungry. Its my prerogative, right? WRONG! Yeah, thats right. After finding a power bar, I start unwrapping it and hear Mitch bark at me, what are you doing? Simply his asking me this question sets me off. Ok, so now I have to state both who I am and what my reason for being downstairs is? What the fuck is this? So, after he asks me this annoying-as-shit question, I kind of pause for a moment to try and compose myself so as not to give a completely belligerent response. I say the first thing that pops into my head, which is an inquisitive, why do you ask? And Mitchs response: WHY? Its two thirty in the morning! You shouldnt be eating at two thirty in the morning. It screws up your whole digestive system. GAAAAAAAAAAAHHH, THAT STUPID MOTHERFUCKER!! I mean, I do live in his house but, I AM 20 FUCKING YEARS OLD!! If I want to put something in my stomach, regardless of what time of night or day it is, isnt it MY fucking right? I mean, has he never fucking heard of midnight snacking? Or is that notion too far out for his structured, linear frame of mind? Its not like Im having an entire fucking meal. And even so, its my fucking stomach dick wad! This is nothing more than the rudimentary asshole-ishness Im subjected to in Mitchs post-GRAMMY days. So, after being stunned at the reality of what he was doing, I kind of dumbfoundedly responded with, Well, Im hungry so Im eating. Is that completely unheard of? As he gets off his fat, underwear-clad ass, he shuts off the TV and heads back up to his room. In the process, he retorts to me with, you have these kind of eating habits and then you wonder why you have stomach problems. Like this is the sole fucking reason that my digestive system doesnt work properly, If anything, its his fucking fault. His faulty sperm caused the botched conception inside my mom that later spawned ME in all my 3-toed, anus-lacking, heart murmuring, VATER syndrome glory. So, you wanna argue about this, Mitch. You want to try and convince me that you shouldnt have to fund the Malone procedure Ill probably need to have in a few months cause I have bad eating habits? Cause believe me, I know thats what your fiscally-fixated mind is thinking, you cruel piece of fuck!
Yeah, so after standing in the kitchen for a moment after his grand exit, I just kind of thought about everything thatd just occurred and felt I needed to have one last say. I knew it had to be good. In my mind, it was some variation of fuck off (fuck you, buzz off, piss off, leave me the fuck alone, let me do what I want, suck a dick, eat shit, etc.) Well, what eventually came out of my mouth was something relatively close to what Id originally dreamt up. I think I said to him, leave me the fuck alone. Yeah, It was a nice combination of a few of those! So, I hear him stomp upstairs and close his bedroom door. I follow him up, I stand in the darkened hallway outside his room to listen in on the inevitable whining he must be spewing at his Mexican wife. I hear him say, he wonders why he has stomach problems when hes fuckin it up by eating at three o clock in the morning(yes, my dad tends to let time elapse in miraculous leaps and bounds.) So, Im standing in the darkened hallway, my blood sizzling, my adrenaline pumping. I angrily walk down the hallway to my room and shut the door. I stand there and then I realizeTHAT MOTHERFUCKER MAD ME SO MAD, I FORGOT MY FUCKING WATER DOWNSTAIRS! EAT A DICK, MITCH!

THE LESSON TO BE LEARNED: If youre hungry at 2:30 in the AM, allow the inner Mitch to knock some sense into your stomach. You should know better than to have cravings at such hours!

STAY TUNED NEXT TIME FOR THE PEE-BAG & CAMERA EXTRAVAGANZA!