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That pretty much sums up the assault that the last few days have waged on my mind. It started last weekend when some of us got together to see Kikka back to her mother land. After waking up the next day and discovering several wounds, bite marks, and what was almost certainly a baby in my uterus, I did my best to piece together the events of the previous evening.

I met up with luna on da east side and went to a local drinkery. There we ran into a fantastically inebriated jason and I remember thinking: "Christ I hope I'm as happy as this guy five hours and an uncountable number of drinks from now." One piss-water beer later and we were off to meet Kikka and my two bitches penny and waxangel.

From our first moments together, Kikka made it abundantly clear that she was in the mood to kick somebody's ass. More specifically, mine. After attempting (and succeeding) to shove something in my mouth that resembled a cross between shredded wheat and baby food, she began openly challenging me to punch her in the stomach. It's a well known fact that I'm a champion of equallity, so I handled this situation in as diplomatic a way as possible: I punched her in the stomach. After that, it was fucking on. What followed was a series of punishments, revenge, humiliation, and getting my ass beat on a car while the owner impatiently honked at us from inside. Somewhere in between that, we all danced until my clothing was literally torn to pieces and I had to pry waxangel's vice-like jaw from my obviously delicious neck.

At this time, I've narrowed down the father of my baby to two candidates: Jameson's fine whiskey, and Beefeater gin. After I break through this dilema, I have to explain to my visiting parents why the fifteen year old kid they entrusted to me has a black eye. Rather than have my mom freak out and believe that we live in some kind of lawless neighborhood, I'm thinking of just telling her that it's small price to pay for opening his damn mouth in my house.