That duck who has the gall to call himself my stepfather is drunk. Yet again. And, as can only be expected from a drunken old man with an inferiority complex; he is casting all of his hate and anger my way 'cause I'm young and have potential. All because i wouldn't go get his frickin' pizza yesterday. He said "if you touch my pizza I will kick your fucking ass." He has yet to do so despite me eating a slice of his day old, refrigerated pizza. However he did see me take the first bite and turned the color of a beet. He began ranting and raving about how I had better give it to the dog or he would break my cranium against the floor.  i went upstairs while mom said, "hey now."  To which he snapped, "Fuck no. That little insolent bastard has betrayed me for the last time. I'm going to kick his fucking ass for this. The little shit is an asshole, just as bad as his father."


My blood ran cold, thoughts twinged through my brain about killing him, dishing out great mutilations against his tired flesh. But that soon passed. He is just a poor alcoholic with no future, no family (with the exception of a wife he verbally abuses and a 'stepson' that he threatens to hurt whenever he gets brushed wrong) and certainly  no hope of gainful employment. If i was him I would probably be trying to pickle my liver as fast as possible too.

It's just a damn shame that he hasn't figured things out this time around. Maybe some small god will shine kindly on him and bestow a second chance sometime farther down the line. It doesn't do me any good hilding a grudge. It's just tiring coming home and the only thing that is said is, "Don't fucking mess up my kitchen."