Rockabillies Are Stupid

I was 21 when I began my relationship with Pepe. Lady packed up most of her and Pepe’s apartment before moving back home to Colorado to be with her family.

That left Pepe and me alone in Las Vegas with really no way to support ourselves. Pepe was a pure bred douche bag. At 36 years of age he was pulling in minimum wage working retail at the local music store. Lady had been supporting them both through stripping.

I had also been stripping. I was the worst stripper there ever was. I didn’t make any money, I was too afraid.

Low on options, Pepe called his brother in Tucson and asked if we could stay there for a little while, until we got on our feet. His brother, Tim agreed.

Tim was a rockabilly who had just gotten out of prison. He had a three bedroom house. However, all the rooms were rented out. He told us we could stay in “the lounge”.

The lounge was just an additional room built on the side of the house. It didn’t have AC. It was very hot. However it did possess a tiny black and white TV. A little keepsake from Tim’s prison cell.

Tim used to joke, “I used to watch Martha Stewart on that TV when I was in prison. Guess who is in there now!?”

Tim had an “unpleasantly plump” girlfriend who also lived with him. Her name was Angela. I lovingly referred to her as, “Anger-la”.

Anger-la was the biggest, fattest bitch that ever lived. She had an obsession with cleaning that included dusting plants. Everyday you could find her in the living room with a dry cloth and a ficus.

Very confusing.

Especially considering the smashed gecko that lived between the front door and the door frame she never bothered to remove.

Anger-la loved to shop online for accessories. She would only buy things if they had “rockabilly fashion” written in the description.

She had the most annoying, nasely voice ever.

You could hear it echo through the yard when she fucked Tim. AAA-HHHH-AAA!

I would spill things on the carpet on puropse just to piss her off. Sometimes, in the mornings, I would hide her plants.

You could hear her stampede through the house like an elephant in heat looking for that plant.

This brought me much joy.

Tim also had two roommates, Joe and Bobby. Bobby was a nice guy, he kept to himself for the most part. There was one thing strange about Bobby (besides him being a pansy rockabilly), he kept three, rather large, hissing cockroaches as pets. He would walk around the house with them on his shirt.

Very disgusting.

Immediately upon arrival, I went looking for a job. I was hired pretty quickly, at a sports lounge, as a server.

Remember how I said I was the worst stripper that ever lived? Also, worst waittress ever! I lasted two weeks before I was fired.

My main concern was not holding down a job back then anyway. It was attaining and consuming alcohol. I always had plenty of hooch. This was a good thing because my relationship with Pepe was not.

Pepe was very jealous. Anytime he thought a man was looking at me he would start a confrontation.

One extremely hot, Tucson morning after having gotten fired, I woke up next to Pepe, from a tickling sensation.

“Stop Pepe!” I  giggled. “It’s too early for that.”

I slapped his hand. Only it wasn’t his hand that I hit.

What the hell was that?

I opened my eyes and looked at my shoulder.

Thats when I saw it.


I screamed louder than a slut in a basketball teams locker room.

I jumped up and did a dance like an Indian in a Rain Ceremony.

We were covered in cockroaches. 

Hissing cockroaches.

I told you rockabillies suck!

One of Bobby’s pets has bred. It had several hundred babies. They had escaped.

After this, I needed a drink. It was 8am. Pepe and I didn’t stop drinking all day.

We drank all the liquor we had.

We went to a party that night. The beer was everywhere. I devised, what I thought to be a brilliant plan.

One beer for me, one for my purse. Once my purse got heavy I made a trip to my car and emptied it into the trunk.

Tim caught wind of this and flipped out. He called me lots of unpleasant names. Pepe decided, instead of sticking up for me to his little brother, he would take me home.

I said goodbye to my new male acquaintance, that I had been talking to, and we were off.

“Who the fuck was that guy you were talking to?” Pepe wanted to know.

“His name is Daryl. He is gay and he owns a salon,” I said. “He told me to come see him after I take my cosmetology licensing exam out here next month and he can get me a job.”


Pepe hit me with the back of his hand, right in my face.

“You fucking stupid, lying bitch!” He screamed. “That guy wasn’t a faggot! He had his nuts all over you!”

Pepes eyes were bloodshot and twitching.

I didn’t respond. I was in shock.

We pulled up to the house.

Pepe continued his rant.

“You stupid, fucking whore!”

I got out of the car and and started walking to the lounge. I opened the back gate.

“I’m talking to you! Look at me you stupid bitch!” He continued.

I had had enough.

Pepe was going down.

I turned around, made a fist and socked Pepe in the side of his ugly, acne scarred head.

“Asshole!” I screamed.

Pepe did not like this.

Before I knew what was going on, he pushed me onto the ground. I landed on my back with a thud. Pepe sat on top of me and started slapping me in the face.

“You like this bitch?” He yelled, “Look what you are making me do to you!”

I squirmed but it was no use. His knees were on my arms.


Pepe continued to slap me. I tried to spit on him but it just came right back down and landed on my own face.

I was crying.

I tried kicking but wasnt even coming close.

Just then, Tim walked up.

I was saved!

“keep it down!” Tim yelled. “One of the neighbors might call the cops! One call and I go back to prison!”

With that Tim disappeared into the house.

I was not saved. Tim didn’t care.

Pepe eventually let me go, but not until he made me apologize. I walked into our room, gathered my things and took off.

It was three am and I was broke.

I sat in front of a grocery store down the street until it opened. Then, I called my grandfather and asked him to wire me money.

I drove eight hours back to Southern California, alone.

I didn’t see Pepe again for six months.

But thats another story.


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