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Thursday, August 03, 2006

Things Zombie Hates Thursday, With Special Guest El Bastardo

And away we go...

1. That Woman That Brought Those Kids to My House Last Night.

I'm moving out of this dump soon, to a shiny new place, which is cause for the happy...but what's not cause for the happy is that they are showing the house right now, to potential new renters, while I'm still in it.

Generally, this is not a problem, as the people come in, gawk around for a few minutes, and then leave, but last night...oh. The horror.

This family shows up. The mother is loud and has shifty eyes. The father seems a bit cowed. The one daughter is barely three years old and oddly quiet.

Then I figure out why they are all like this - her older sister, who is 9, is the most monstrous child I have ever encountered in my life.

I do not say this lightly, as I have encountered many monstrous children, but this girl took the biscuit in a rather fantastic way.

Immediately upon entering my humble abode, she looks at me and opens her mouth.

"I am thirsty!" she says loudly. "I would like a drink! Of juice! Now!"

Excuse me?

I stare at her for a few beats. I look over at the mother, who says nothing about this titanic rudeness.

"I WANT A DRINK!" the girl says, upping the volume a bit.

"I am sure you do," I say calmly.

"GET ME SOME JUICE!" she says to me.

"No. I don't think I will," I reply.

Her face screws up. She is apparently unaccustomed to being denied things.

The mother butts in with, "If you could get her a glass of water, I would appreciate it. Please."

Oh, all right. Since someone said "please."

I get the girl a cup of water and get out of the way as the family tromps around my house. The girl spies my dog and makes a beeline for him.

Now, my dog is a greyhound. While he is rather large and weighs around 80 pounds, he's a big fucking baby. He was rescued from a track and he is terrified of people, despite repeated attempts to get him to calm the hell down. In his little doggy eyes, this banshee of a child must've closely resembled whatever passes for Satan in Dog World.

"HI, DOG!" she shouts, advancing toward him. "BIG DOG! HI, DOG! HIIIIIIIII!"

He bolts down the hall. She gives chase. Various people and items of furniture are between me and my horrified animal, so I can't leap quickly to his defense.

"YO!" I say, loudly, starting to maneuver around the crap in my way. "Leave the dog alone!"

I envision the dog dissolving into a shivering puddle of piss on my bed and sigh. "YO!" I say, louder. "Get away from the dog."

"Now, honey," says the mother. "You leave that dog be."

The girl doesn't listen, obviously.

I make it around everything and down the hall to rescue the dog. I steer the girl out of my bedroom, where she'd begun simultaneously bothering my dog and messing with my shoes. My shoes. For fuck sake.

Returning to the kitchen, I see everyone is trooping downstairs to the basement, where I keep the "family room," which means that's where the couch and TV live. And also Frankencomp.

The girl follows her family. I follow, too, sensing this child is a menace to anything breakable. She heads right for my TV and turns it on.

"I WANT CARTOONS!" she shouts.

"Honey, you leave people's things alone," says the mother.

I go over and switch the TV off. "You are not here to watch cartoons," I tell her. She gives me a dirty look and begins jumping on my couch.

What the hell?

"Honey, don't jump on the couch," says the mother. The girl keeps jumping.

"Take her outside!" the mother says to the father. He drags her up the stairs and outside.

The mother turns to me and my landlord. "She's really a handful sometimes."

I nod.

"It's because she's really smart," the mother says.

"Uh...right," Landlord says.

"It's hard to control her because she's so smart. She gets bored easily. So she gets into stuff."

Really. I could've sworn she didn't act that way because she was smart or bored...but because she's a rude little shit with no manners, whose parents haven't taught her any better. Fancy that.

"Anyway," says the mother. "We really like this house. You take HUD, right?"

Landlord nods.

"Good. And we're not white trash. Really. People think that if you're on HUD, you're white trash, but we're not white trash because we're on HUD."

Really. Well, she's right about that one. Being on HUD doesn't make you white trash. It makes you someone who needs to be on HUD. Being a ridiculously poor excuse for a human being, with disgustingly mannered children that behave in a socially unacceptable manner in someone else's home, though? Uh huh. White trash. Fancy that.

The mother yammers on about not being white trash and how smart the kid is for a while, but I stop listening, as I can hear strange banging around out on my deck.

Then the back door slams open and the kid runs back into the house. I track her sandals clomping down the hallway...right back into my bedroom. The father does not seem to be in evidence.

Shit. I go back upstairs, only to find - you guessed it - the kid harassing my dog some more.

"HIIIII, DOG!" she is bellowing. "HIIIIIIIII!" The dog looks at me as if to say, "Please shoot me. Please."

"Leave the damned dog alone," I tell her in a bored tone of voice, as I do not want her to think she is bothering me. Generally, letting a kid like that know you're bothered is a bad idea.

Back down the hall I steer her. The mother and Landlord have come back upstairs and the father is standing in the kitchen, as well.

"Take her back outside!" the mother shrills.

The girl heads for the door, so I turn and go back to my bedroom to check on my poor doggie.

A few minutes later, I come back out to the kitchen. I see father, mother, little baby girl, Landlord and...no kid. Where's the kid? Shit.

I hear thumping downstairs. Shit!

I go downstairs and the child is banging on my computer. And the TV is back on.

WHAT THE HELL?

"Get away from that immediately," I tell the girl. Then I holler upstairs to the parents, "Someone come get this child before she breaks my computer. It is an expensive machine, and if she breaks it, you'll be paying for it. Come get her. Now."

The mother scuttles downstairs, muttering apologies interspersed with comments about the blinding brilliance of her daughter's mind, blah blah. Whatever. Get away from my computer and get out of my house.

The daughter is dragged back upstairs and outside. The mother finishes signing the lease.

Good lord, Landlord must be either stupid or a masochist to want to rent to these people. That little demon of a child will have the house burnt to the ground within a week. And if she doesn't manage to burn the house down, after a week of having to live near these people, I think the neighbors may form a mob with torches and come slay the monstrosity in their midst themselves.

I might like to see that. I hope someone has the presence of mind to record it on video for posterity.

But seriously, Woman That Brought Those Kids to My House Last Night. Your kid isn't particularly bright. She's just particularly nasty and ill-mannered. Nastiness and bad manners only signify intelligence if they're coming from me or El Bastardo. But coming from a 9 year old? No. I'm sorry. It just means you're shit at raising kids.

But that's okay. Because, right before you left? When you asked if the heating bills for the house were reasonable and affordable, and I said they were completely reasonable and totally affordable, don't you worry?

I fucking lied.

*****

And now, another missive from my El Bastardo, which he is calling El Bastardo's Run-In With Idiot Homophobes this week. Y'all are just too lucky.

But not as lucky as me.

pwned.

One time, some idiot was claiming that kids being around homersexuals makes them turn gay.

"How in the FUCK can you just 'turn' gay, Jethro?" I asked. "Like...'OMG!! Run, Clem!! He is going were-gay!! DO NOT LET HIM TOUCH YOU!!' or something?

*full moon* ARRRRGHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOO.......Oh... my...STARS!! Those shoes do not go with that dress, girlfriend!! *snap*"

"But studies have shown that children raised by gay couples tend to be molested and grow up to be molested and..." says the idiot.

"WHAT studies, there, Zogby?"

"Studies..."

"Right..."

"Also, gays go out and try to recruit young kids to become gay, too, and..."

"You are right!! Yes, it is all part of the BGC (Big Gay Conspiracy)!! I recall during Career Day in college, the evil gays had a booth, offering me a free toaster and fashion sense if I just joined them... you are a fucking idiot."

So, in conclusion, what have we all learned from this little exchange that I had?

That inbreeding DOES cause retardation? Obviously.

That homophobes need to accept their chronic love of the cock and just accept the fact that thinking of one up their rear entry gives them wood? Naww, they will never admit it.

What we have learned is that bigoted, closet homosexuals need to be taken behind the shed, given a good meal and shot in the face.

Because, you know, that is what Jesus would want.



Amen.


link | posted by Zombie at 5:20 PM |


5 Comments:

Blogger skippystalin commented at 7:45 PM~  

Zombie, I think you go too far in portraying people who are poorly-raised, ill-mannered and stupid as being a bad thing. All one need do is look at me as evidence to the contrary. After all, I am celebrated the world over for my ignorant and inconsiderate remarks.

On the other hand, I feel that such mannerisms are only entertaining, and therefore tolerable, in adults. Were it up to me, everyone born after 1975 would have had their tongues cut out at birth. And beaten. Viciously. Until about 2002. Then set free to cannabalize their fellow youngsters.

I agree with El Bastardo in one important respect: people who enjoy a nice (albeit tiny in my case) cock in the mouth and ass should be celebrated as nothing less than secular saints. Secular saints doing the work of the Lord!

Indeed, one of the great regrets of my life is that I enjoy the company of women. Given my druthers, I would've gone the other way. If only I had someone to turn to. Alas, I went to Catholic school for 11 years and was sheltered greatly.

I'm beginning to think that being a homosexualist would have been the greatest fucking thing ever! Sodomy is so much nicer when it isn't attached to something ugly. Something like a fucking mortage, or better still, the expectation of one in your name.

I would further suggest that something as silly as peer-pressure has nothing at all to do with something as serious as getting fucked in the ass. Fun girlfriends and recent parolees everywhere will tell you that this is a little more serious than something dopey, like smoking cigarettes behind the barn or taking Ecstasy. Getting sodomized is like joining the fucking marines would be,except with good hair and snappy style sense. You're either a marine for life, or not at all.

Unless of course you're doing it for drug money. Then it doesn't count. Trust me, I checked.

That is all.

Anonymous Greeny commented at 7:48 PM~  

We had much the same issue when I moved out of my last house.

Most of the people were reasonably nice and normal, generally university students with a vague reek of bong water soaked pants.

HOWEVER, there was this one fucking couple who showed up with their kids, I'd say they were about 7 and 9.

So the parents started reasonably nicely, even told the kids to sit on the couch and watch some tv, we were cool with that.

Then all of a sudden when we come back downstairs the kids are in my fridge randomly throwing shit on the ground. Like milk cartons and steaks. Then standing on them.

I tend not to have much patience or politeness in such situations, so I immediately went ballistic - "What the fuck are you fucking fuckers doing? Get the fuck out of my house!".

The real estate lady was looking very nervous at this stage, and then the father is like "Dont you talk to my kids like that".

So I pointed out to him that if he wants me to treat his children with a bit of respect, they should treat my house and belongings with more respect than could be expected from a rampaging hord of visigoths.

The father took umbrage to this and took a swing at me, so I tackled him, which lead to an amusing brawl in my laundry (which was next to the kitchen) where I was beating up the father, the mother was slapping the back of my head, my roomate Judit was kicking the mother in the back, and the kids continued to destroy my food and stuff.

Good times.

They never even apologised for their childrens horrific behaviour, didn't even make excuses. The father didn't apologise for taking a swing at me either.

Anonymous mary commented at 3:24 PM~  

You should have stabbed that kid in the eye.

Blogger Zombie commented at 3:35 PM~  

Greeny! Good to see you, son! And why am I not surprised at the idea of you in such a melee? Hmm.

Mary, generally, it's frowned upon when you stab kids in the eye, I've discovered. Don't ask me how I know, just know that I do. Besides, I didn't have anything sharp close to hand.

Skippy, I always knew you were a fag. Fag.

Anonymous Greeny commented at 5:20 PM~  

Good to see you too, oh Zombilicious type thingy.

And yes, every story I can potentially tell my grandkids in 50 years time revolves around a melee of some description.

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