Jill is missing

Brendan came home from school very upset. I’m not sure ‘upset’ is quite the right word for it. His friend, Jill, has been missing since yesterday. She wasn’t at school, and he was telling me (very reluctantly) that her parents had stopped by and screamed at the principal in front of a good portion of the student body. They’re in a panic.

I’m not sure whether I’m sympathetic, or think they’re overreacting. She didn’t sound like the best student to begin with, and if she’s inspired all of this delinquent behavior in my children, maybe nothing’s happened to her. Maybe she’s just running off, causing a fuss for nothing.

It’s not polite to speak of people like her like you’re doing right now.

I’d think you’d know better.

What do you mean, ‘people like her’?

She’s fine. Isn’t she fine? What do you know?

I told you what we would do.

Hurting people

Not a single day goes by, anymore, that I don’t feel disgustingly ill. I don’t think I convinced Gordon that my black eye was from slipping and falling on my way back from the store. He’s stressed, with the holidays around the corner, Sarah is still smoking - I caught her in her room, looking for a lighter - and Brendan has been very quiet since coming home from school Friday. I have a feeling it has something to do with Jill.  And if that little bitch has hurt my little boy, I’ll slit her open from festering crotch to lying throat.

I didn’t write that. That’s sick. That’s sickening, don’t say things like that.

Don’t you care about revenging your sweet child?

Then again, you are a pretty fucking horrible mother.

Hey, what if you’re sick because of morning sickness?

Wouldn’t that be ironic.

I am not pregnant AND I AM NOT A HORRIBLE MOTHER. JUST SHUT UP, YOU DON’T KNOW A FUCKING THING.

You won’t hurt anyone. Just stop

You don’t know how funny that statement is.

“You won’t hurt anyone” sort of implies we haven’t already.

What

What did you do

Oh, nothing.

Getting hit is fun and all.

But I can’t have anyone thinking I’m a little bitch, now can I?

Don’t worry.

She’s not dead.

Who did you hurt

You forgot your black eye so soon?

I didn’t.

I made her pay.

Please don’t hurt anyone else

What’ll you do for me?

I I can’t

Stop it just stop I can’t do this I can’t be crazy anymore just, stop it

Why don’t you pretend I’m not here.

And keep talking about your family?

You’re always here

It’s good you’re finally starting to realize that.

"Erotica"

He kisses me on the neck.  That’s about as much foreplay as he can muster.

We go to the bedroom after he makes sure the twins are asleep.  I strip off my clothes because I know he’ll just have me do it when he comes in.  Not enough chemistry anymore for him to strip me.  Not enough passion for him to even lift my skirt anymore.

When he gets in, he strips down to everything but his socks.  He blames it being cold.  He blames a lot of things on the cold, and I’m not sure I buy it anymore.

Missionary position.  Again.  It never really changes.  There’s no spark, like there used to be.  I remember us being young, trying our best to be quiet while I sucked him off in my room, so my Dad wouldn’t hear.  He didn’t even see my pussy until we were married, but, of course, I had to serve him somehow.  Always have to serve, like I’m lying still and he just half-heartedly goes to town.

I fake an orgasm right as he reluctantly finishes.  Elapsed time is probably only a minute or two, but it feels like an eternity, lying back and thinking of England.

Oh my god what are you doing.

Stop this. Stop it right now.

I warned you.  I told you I would talk about how boring Gordon was.

I SAID TO STOP IT WHAT ARE YOU DOING. HOW ARE YOU DOING THIS.

WHY WON’T YOU STOP.

It’s my body too.  I’d ask if you even realize I was in control for one of the times he decided to make you perform your wifely duties, but we both know they kind of blend together, so it’s kind of impossible to tell.

STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT FUCK YOU. I’VE HAD ENOUGH OF THIS. Do not post this anywhere. Please.

Oh, please now?

What do I get for not posting this?

You don’t get anything, you don’t deserve anything. You’re digusting. Leave me alone.

If I don’t get anything, I don’t see why I should do what you say.  That’s not really fair!

We’ll go drinking. You like that.

That’s not enough anymore.

You’re taking my life and IT’S NOT ENOUGH?

Not anymore.

You need to give me something really nice to not post this.

It’s my artistic expression!

FUCK YOU.

Is that a no?

Oh, maybe you could walk through the back streets, wearing a miniskirt.

You could look real vulnerable.

That could be fun.

We’ll have a knife.

Please no

Sounds like you’re not willing to do what it takes.

Again.

Guess I’m posting this.

Need tech support

I don’t think I’ve ever been in worse condition in my life. I have horrible nausea, a headache, and a black eye. (I love this story) How am I supposed to explain this? I look like the wrong end of a bar room brawl.

Oh god. I essentially was.

It was fantastic

I can’t remember it, for the most part. I know it wasn’t the alcohol. I’ve come to grips that something is horribly wrong with me.

More like horribly amazing.

Why else would I come to, just in time to find my tongue down another woman’s throat... It was... I don’t even know what it was.

And before I knew what was happening, this butch-looking woman who looked male at first glance was drawing a fist back. She hit me.

And let me just say, you took that shot to the eye like a champ.

Hehe, shot to the eye.  That reminds me of something we should do later.

I mean, what’s fun just sticking with girls?  I bet we could get two or three guys.  Maybe a girl too.

Oh, shut up.

I am crazy. I’m crazy and I’m not listening to you.

Just, what was I thinking? SHUT UP. SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.

I was thinking that dyke’s girlfriend looked very fuckable.

You weren’t doing the thinking.

It’s not your strong point.

That’s why you spent college enslaved to Gordon’s parents, isn’t it?

I’M IGNORING YOU.

I’m crazy but I know I’m crazy and I’m ignoring you how am I supposed to explain a black eye? And nearly being arrested for public inebriation, and being kicked out of a bar. Oh god how would he even know, though? He wouldn’t know. Gordon never goes to bars, he doesn’t drink, he’s dull.

You said it, not me.

Oh, shut the fuck up.

Oh, I can talk at length about how dull he is.

...in fact, I think I just might.

Don’t you talk to my husband. In fact, don’t talk at all. Ever. I will cut my own lips off if it’ll get you to stop talking. SO STOP TALKING. SHUT UP.

Hey, Lyndsay, have you checked contributors to your blog lately?

Well.

Our blog.

How the hell did you do that?

I’m going to remove you.

That’s adorable.

I’m calling tech support the moment they’re available.

You do that!

It’s great to see you take the initiative.

It won’t work, but it’s refreshing considering how much of a doormat you are.

I'm crazy so I'm not crazy which means I'm crazy and if I'm crazy and I know I'm crazy that means I'm not crazy

The police held me for 48 hours, to do a mental evaluation. They didn’t believe me.

I’m not normally one to do this, but.

I told you so.

Gordon had to pick me, after picking up the kids from school. He left work early, and stopped by the station. I’m only relieved that he got Brendan and Sarah from school first. I feel humiliated.

Gee, I wonder why.

I must be insane. That’s the only explanation. Though, wouldn’t they have held me in the station for longer? Or sent me to an asylum? Maybe that’s where I belong. I feel crazy.

How many times do I have to tell you?

You’re not crazy.

I’m real.

Crazy people don’t think they’re crazy. So, as long as I think I’m crazy, I must be okay. Isn’t that right?

That’s the spirit!

You should celebrate getting out of the slammer.

I’m crazy. Thinking I’m crazy means I’m not crazy. So I’m not crazy. But I am. I need some air. I think I’ll go for a walk.

Where?  Where are we going?

Let’s hit a bar.  Let’s get totally trashed.

I’m crazy I’m crazy I’m crazy I’m crazy I’m crazy I’m crazy I’m crazy

Lyndsay.  Stop it.

You’re not being fun.

If you keep at this I’m going to have to make you be fun.

Leave me alone. You’re not real. Because I think you’re real and I’m crazy that makes you not real.

I’m going for a walk. A long walk.

YOU CAN'T INTIMIDATE ME

I feel as though I dreamed last night. If there wasn’t written proof, I’d think I had. I know it happened, though, all of this is happening. I don’t know how, or why, but it must be.

Or, am I crazy?

You’re way too boring to be crazy. 

None of the fun kinds, anyway. 

What are you? What did you do with the gun?

Why? Thinking about using it? 

My children could find it. Tell me where the gun is.

It’s safe. Don’t worry. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to your precious little twins. 

Leave my entire family alone. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t care. If you hurt my family, I’ll

Mistletoe 

What?

It’s what you can call me. 

Leave my family alone, Mistletoe.

And what do I get out of that? 

I won’t call the police, for starters.

Hahahahahahahahaha 

What do you think they’ll do? 

Arrest me? 

Do you even realize what I am? 

If I had to guess, some psychopathic stalker trying to ruin my life.

If that were the case, how could I make you remember those things? 

Why do I know everything about you?

What you think?

What you fear? 

What you love? 

What you hate? 

How did I make that cigarette magically appear in your mouth, Lyndsay? 

How did I make you fuck your husband’s gorgeous TA? 

She has a name, by the way. It’s pretty rude of you to not call her by it after she’s been elbow deep in you. 

You’re vile, and you’re probably drugging me somehow. Leave me alone, or I’ll be calling the police. I promise you that.

Do you remember what that “homeless man” told you? 

What? No. I

I’ll tell you, he was a fighter. 

Nowhere near as entertaining as you. 

He fought me at every angle. He figured it out almost from the start. 

But eventually, he gave in. 

I’m a monster, Lyndsay. 

I’m a splintered piece of the God of Death. 

I’m lust and desire and pain and rage and excitement. 

I’m the dart that kills Baldr. 

I’m the thing that you use as an excuse to kiss the people you were too scared to kiss. 

And I’m yours, now. 

I’m in your motherfucking head. 

I’m sharing a room with that pathetic excuse for a soul you have. 

Caged and alone to the first person who told you you were pretty. 

I’m your best and only fucking friend. 

I’m Mistletoe, Lyndsay. 

Let 

Me 

In. 

I’ve had it. I’m calling the police, right now.

I’m sure they’ll have a blast when they find the pot. And the gun. 

Neither of us wants you to go to jail, Lyndsay. 

I’m dialling. You can’t intimidate me.

Lyndsay won!

Congratulations, Lyndsay!

You won!

How did I get here

Oh my god

Oh my god. Oh my god I have a gun.

The click means you win.  I was nervous!  You had a 1-in-6 chance!

But unlike normal, you didn’t fuck it up!

Wwhhh\at I don’t understand

Where did this come from

I could have died oh god I’m going to be sick

Feel that adrenaline pumping?  Do you feel alive yet?

I was rooting for you.  I was not looking forward to the possibility of going into one of your terrible children.

Or your boring as hell husband.  Maybe an EMT, though.

That’s the risk of the game, though!

And as for where it came from?  Well, there was a slightly waiting period, but don’t worry!  It’s not a registered firearm.  No one will come looking for you when you use it.

i need air

Maybe you should take a walk to campus.

I know someone probably wants a visit from you.

God, did that click make you as horny as it made me?

Oh wow, I feel so great.

You totally could have died, it’s amazing.

i i i i

i feel dizzy

Oh, rest, that’s good.

It’s a little much, but it’s fine!  You’ve earned the right to be boring as fuck.