Crackhead sheboon at the Gas-N-Fro Mart

It was my wife's birthday a couple of days ago so I couldn't really cuss her out too much about this without making it onto her ten year shit list, but I did give her a rather terse counseling session on the dangers of her behavior over this event.

I had been working on the car for several days straight trying to get the wipers and lights working despite my bad luck with replacement parts (see earlier post about junkyard niggers). When I say days straight, I mean that in the most literal sense of the words. I have suffered from frequent bouts of insomnia since my early teens. This is ideal for working on long projects as long as they are quiet at night and I don't start hallucinating too much after three to five days of being awake. Yes, that's a thing and it's not the pleasant kind like some of you might be thinking. That said, I tend to sleep when it hits me no matter when because if I don't, it may not happen again for a couple of days. Such was the state I was in when I told the wife that the lights were working, but not the wipers and that I would continue my efforts after some much needed rest. I went off to bed assuming she had the common sense not to drive anywhere knowing the car's condition especially since the chance of rain for the past and next few days was basically 100 percent. I awoke four hours later to find how wrong I was.

I came out to find it pouring down with lightning crashing and no wife, no daughter, no car and not even one phone. After several hours of intense worry, they finally showed up around 10 that night.

After the aforementioned one way discussion, she went on to tell me about her trip all the way to the mall on the other side of Nig Orleans... Unarmed... With our daughter and no wipers... In our only running vehicle at the time.

On her way back, it started pouring down rain. She had to sense to pull over immediately into the closest gas station and wait it out. She found the bottle of RainX and squeegee that, thanks to me, was left in the car with the intent of using after my short slumber. She parked next to the covered pumps to apply it and was waiting there when, lo and behold, who should come out of the store but Melanomia Moon-cricket. She sauntered up to the car window and knocked on it. My wife, thinking she worked there and was going to ax her to moob her carruhh, rolled down her window. This was to prove to be her worst mistake of the night. The wife preemptively told this bitch that she was only going to be there for a couple of minutes to prep the windshield and then she would move. The only words that were coherently uttered from this crack ho were a series of huhhs and whuuutz. After taking closer note of her runny mascara, filthy attire, bloodshot eyes and stammering, It became instantly obvious that she didn't work at this gas station. She more likely was working behind it next to the dumpster spreading diseases and her legs for crack rocks, pocket change, chicken or Newports. The wife rolled up the window and locked the doors when this nasty bitch turned to walk off. It was at this point that the wife and daughter both noticed the stains on her due to her easy access mini skirt. This filthy skank had shit, piss and who knows what kind , how many or who all's bodily fluids running from her underwear and down her legs.

I threw up in my mouth after hearing all of this from my wife. It turned out to be a good thing for her, though, since I was rendered totally speechless for the rest of the night and therefore unable to deliver forth any further counseling over her poor decision making processes during this whole evolution.

This whole series of unfortunate events took place all so that our daughter could buy her mother a trinket from a local jewelry maker that was certainly not worth ANY of the risk she took in doing so. Not on her birthday, not ever!

Friends, don't let your loved ones make such decisions. Get through to them by any means necessary the dangers out there to avoid. This could have ended so much worse for so many reasons - the least of which would have been property damage or a ticket. The worst of which, I'm still trying to not think about.