La Historia de Un Fríjol Chiflado

or…The Story of The Wacky Bean

Yesterday, while attending to my fríjoles, I notice some yummy cake. I ask about it and my mother informs me that it was my brother’s birthday cake. So he had a party and did not invite me: I don’t care. And before he yells from the recliner he is mounding, in the other room, that “it’s his cake; I never share,” I’ve already made up my mind I don’t want any.

Then I am sitting with my parents, watching their television, while I wait out the hour needed for my “fríjoles” to finish. Next thing I know, mom is leaving to “Uber” my brother to the beach. Now it’s just dad and I. The phone rings. It’s my sister, immediately identifiable by her loud voice, which I can hear from the receiver! The next thing I know, my dad is communicating that he has something to tell her, but can’t because he is not alone…finally coming right out and saying it is me.

Since when can’t he talk in front of me? Unless it’s about me, right?

“What the fuck!?”

Today I suppose it’s not the first time I have been talked about. My motto: I don’t care.

The Truth:

Seeing how loving Ward Cleaver was to the Beaver & Wally Cleaver, my feelings are hurt…big time.

One week, my mother is giving me notice and the next week I am being talked about by my father. And all this as I have been trying to extract myself from mother’s web of misery and martyrdom, by getting medical transportation for my medical visits and paying for my own Ubers for personal stuff. Thank God, my SSI check is large enough to cover everything, though, I can be better.

OMG! There’s Gilbert again…I’m losing it again…give me a minute.

Gilbert was a crackhead, buther, with no teeth I met when I lived in North Miami Beach. We used to smoke crack together: I would try to make him molest me with his G.I. Joe body while he would geek and then proceed to tell me how is is better than EVERYONE!

Another Truth:

I loved him. I lusted him. I would do anything for him. And my deepest, darkest wish is that I could be back there with him again…to smell him, to touch him, to smoke crack with him…and the spell is broken. 😀

Final Truth: I am an idiot!


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