I had just finished my final work shift for the week, followed by a run, when I made the long drive back home. It was still daylight when I pulled into the underground parking garage. Like a miracle from God, Slappie’s truck was nowhere to be seen.

“Could it be?” I wondered aloud. “Did Slappie actually make it to work on time?”

Suddenly, I was grateful to have Veronica staying with us. Her being there was helping to divert some of Slappie’s attention away from me and obviously she was a good influence on the bitch.

Still, it was a lonely Saturday evening in the ghetto of Long Beach and once again I was without my children and wallowing in self pity.

In an attempt to take away some of the pain, I walked down to the local convinence store and purchased a six pack of beer and a few lottery scratchers. I was hopeful that my luck might finally be changing.

I had just cracked open my second bottle of liquid tolerance when the front door swung open.

Relief hit me like a ton of bricks when I saw Veronica’s  perfect face.

“Hey girl!” she greeted me.

“Hello. Where’s Slappie?” I asked,  a little scared to hear the answer.

“She’s at work.”

“Oh! Thank God!” I announced.

“Listen I have to be straight with you. That girl is a fucking psycho. I can’t stay here anymore,” Veronica confessed.


“I snuck out of work to come here and get my things. I’m scared of what she might do when she finds out. I’m scared for you too,” she admitted. “I don’t know how you do it,” she continued, “I’ve only been here a few days and I can’t take anymore if this craziness, you have been here weeks.”

I held up my beer and pointed. “I drink! Besides, I don’t have a choice. It’s here or my car.”

“I’d choose the car,” Veronica stated truthfully as she began loading up her suitcases.

“Let me help you,” I offered.

A few minutes later the vehicle was fully loaded.

“Don’t tell Slappie anything about this, play dumb,” she warned me.

…and just like that my human buffer was gone.

I decided to go upstairs and take a shower since for probably the second time since I moved in I could actually bathe on my own terms.

I walked into the room I was sleeping in and over to the sink to grab my shower gel when I saw it.

Slappie had added a plug-in air freshener into the light socket, only she installed it upside down. All the liquid scent had leaked out, right into my makeup box. Horrified, I looked inside to see the majority of my cosmetics destroyed by gardenia oil.

“Fucking fabulous,” I said to myself as I tried in vain to wash off as many items that I could. Eye shadows were wet and my cheek powers were soggy. The oil had even managed to take some of the paint off the plastic casings of my lip balms.

Defeated, I threw half my collection in the trash, grabbed my shower gel and expensive face scrub and headed into the shower.

I turned on the hot water and then unscrewed the lid on the scrub. I growled in anger when I peered inside to see it virtually empty.

I was really getting sick of Slappie’s bullshit. Not only had she eaten all of my kids food when she knew I couldn’t afford to replace it, she had either helped herself to, or destroyed the majority of my beauty products.

This bitch was gonna pay.

After finishing my shower, I dressed myself and then picked up my phone to text Sam.

“Slappie is driving me nuts Sam! She ruined all my makeup and used up all my skin care products! They were virtually brand new!” I complained.

“That sucks,” he responded a minute later.

“Can you look under the bathroom sink and see if I have anything left under there,” I begged my ex.

“I see a few things,” he replied moments later.

“Will you bring them by? Pretty please?” I begged.

“I guess?”

I cracked open yet another beer as I waited for him to show up. As usual, even though he said he would be by in an hour it took him closer to 3. I had already finished my 6 pack and come back with another sixer by the time he arrived.

I was bitter, lonely, buzzed and horny. So, I did what any girl would do in my situation.

That’s right!

I told Sam to have a seat on Slappie’s beloved couch and I pulled off his pants.


The stench from his filthy, unbathed crotch immediately filled the room, but I didn’t care.

I was drunk.

Plus, I still had the smell of gardenia wafting from me to help block the odor.

I hefted Sam’s hairy, fifty pound belly up and out of my way. I climbed on top of grizzly mountain and spread my legs until I felt one of my hips pop. Then I grinded on all four and a half inches of his manhood.

As was typical, Sam didn’t do much but sit there with his arms by his sides as I used him like a moon bounce.

At least I think I did. The details are pretty fuzzy.

Once he finished, he stood up and I could see that he left a nice skid mark of shit, dead skin and fur on the sofa where his ass had been.

I giggled to myself, content with my revenge before leading him to the floor of my bedroom the dog’s room and made him give me a hand job to finish me off.

Of course, he failed there too.

I woke the next morning to Slappie at my bedside floorside.

“Hey, Asterisk you wanna walk the dogs with me?” she begged in her not-so-famous little girl voice.

“Nope!” I responded.

“We can go to brunch. Huh?”

God damn it, did that twat know how to work me or what? Slowly, with the thought of Champagne on my brain, I hefted my flabby body off the floor.

“Hey Asterisk,” Slappie continued, “I just wanted you to know that I love having you here! PJ is welcome too! I’m sorry if I had been acting stressed lately. It wasn’t you, okay? It was Veronica. She took up my personal space, okay? Are you made at me? Huh?”

“Huh? What?” I asked still half asleep. It was much too early for this shit.

“I really love your company and I want you to know you can stay as long as you want. Right?”

“Uhhh, okay. Thanks.”

“Brunch is my treat today. I want to show you how much I care,” she whined while fluttering her lashes like a butterfly being struck by lightning.

“Awesome!” I was never one to turn away free booze.

We walked the dogs together all the while Slappie kept on apologizing in that stupid baby voice.

“Asterisk, Veronica said I’m a bad person. Do you think I’m a bad person?”

“No. I think everyone was just stressed out.”

“I’m really sorry if I stressed you out. I love having you here. It was all Veronica’s fault, not yours,” she continued on.

“No sweat. It’s fine. You are fine. Let’s talk about something else.”

“Do you hate me? Please don’t hate me. Veronica said she hates me. You don’t hate me, right?”

“It’s cool Slappie, where are we going for brunch?”

“I try to help everyone, like I’m helping you. I don’t want you to hate me, okay?”

“Is cool Slappie. Let’s change the subject.”

Slappie’s face turned bright red. First she looked hurt, then embarrassed and finally pissed the fuck off.

We were approaching her front stoop and as luck would have it, she changed her focus back onto her drooling mutts.

“HEY! SIT! SIIIIITTTTT!” she shouted with the ferocity of a Nazi dictator.


Once the dogs had obeyed her command she opened the door to the courtyard and allowed them inside.

We both high tailed it in to get dressed. I was in the bedroom half naked when good ole slappy ignored yet another one of my boundries and pranced in anyway, naked herself.

“I have to look cute in case I run into Jose!”

I let out a sigh, “okay.”

“What should I wear?”

“Your yellow dress! Your tits look great in that.”

“They do, don’t they?” she agreed. Quickly she scurried her pasty ass back into her own bedroom.

Thank god.

A few minutes after, we were both dressed and headed out.

As soon as we were passing by Jose’s house, Slappie started putting on a show. She walked at half speed while wiggling her ass back and forth. She reminded me of a pig in heat.

“Damn it, he’s not here,” she proclaimed as she returned to her regular walk.

Several blocks later we had reached our destination.

We were greeted by a tiny older man. He seated us inside and we began to look over the menu.

“A bottle of Champagne please!” I begged. I was desperate for a hangover cure. Plus I was starting to feel the aftermath of dirty sex and began to pray away the oncoming urinary tract infection.

Slappie started on her “one million questions pertaining to the menu” routine.

The waiter didn’t seem to mind. Actually he was enjoying it. Maybe a little too much.

No sooner had he stepped away did it begin.

“Do you think he likes me?” She asked.


“I mean he likes one of us, do you think it’s me?”

I rolled my eyes. “You seriously wanna hit that?” I asked, a bit astounded.

“I don’t know, he’s kinda cute, right? Why not?”

“He’s got a job,” I said with a chuckle.

Soon our booze arrived. Not long after we ordered another bottle.

The brunch mostly consisted of Slappie flirting with the matronly midget and me consuming a vast majority of the booze.

Never the less, I could tell that Slappie was absolutely feeling the spirits.

The breakfast bar closed and it took all I had to get that bitch out of the restaurant and back on the curb.

“I bet Jose is home,” I reminded her.

Those were the magic words, though she didn’t leave before a mini make out session with the miniature man.


The entire walk home Slappie continued love bombing me.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right? Veronica was the problem. Okay? Huh?”

I was beyond annoyed but managed to keep my trap shut.

Well for the walk home anyway.

It was inside the condo that day it happened.

“I’m a good person, right?” Slappie asked me again.

“Look Slappie, you are a good person but sometimes you go a little extreme. I have to be honest here, the whole ‘whipping the bed’ thing was a bit frightening. It really freaked me out. I don’t blame Veronica for leaving. She was scared of you. I’m scared that you might try to hurt me too!”

Slappie went silent.

She stared at me for a minute, then she seemed to mentally drift off to outer space. I watched her turn towards the dining room table. She placed her hand on the wood and began to circle around it until she had grasped something in her palm. With the object in hand, she moved in my direction.

Suddenly she made eye contact and I saw for the first time what she had picked up.


The razor touched the top of her inner fore arm and I watched as she slowly slid the blade down towards her wrist. The line of cut flesh turned white, and then slowly blood began to trickle out of the open wound. Slappy walked back over to the table and picked something else up.

“THIS IS A BLADE SHARPENER!” she screamed.

I sat with my jaw on the floor as she ferociously ran the blade up and down the sharpener.

I picked up my phone and looked at the screen debating if I should call 911.

Slappie was becoming more hysterical by the second.

“I’m not going to hurt you Asterisk. I do this to hurt myself.”

I watched her take the newly sharpened blade and run it again down the same arm.

“I’m not going to kill myself, I’m just numbing the pain.”

I got up and grabbed myself a beer. Figured I might as well have some refreshments for the show.


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It’s Not My Fault: Self Discovery & Admission

Copyright Wendi Bear 2015