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Jan. 30th, 2012 11:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
froodleFaffing Hen came back on Friday night. He's trying to act as if nothing happened with me and Hayley and the boys, and sneering whenever he walks into the room when my mum is there. I've been limiting myself to one-word answers and walking off. The only complete sentences I want to share with him right now will start with the word "fuck" and end with the word "cunt", and how much profanity is inbetween will be entirely dependant on my energy levels at the time of delivery.
Johnny broke his hand a couple of weeks ago - it's a massive, plaster-and-gauze-wrapped claw that makes him look like the baddie on Inspector Gadget, not easy to miss - and of course the Hen has been going on about the lack of progress at Lincluden. Of course, he could have fucking gone down and fucking done some fucking work on it his fucking self, if he hadn't fucked off to Egypt for three weeks after dumping his wife of thirty-odd years in a FUCKING LETTER, the fucking twat, but no, obviously this situation is everyone's fault but his. Johnny being distracted and upset enough to close a fucking van door on his own fucking hand couldn't have anything to do with the fact that his father just fucking abandoned his family and left him personally holding the bag to the tune of a £350,000 property that's half-finished and worth fuck-all.
Ugh. I came upstairs last night and he was sitting in the office with the door wide open like a bloated, poisonous spider, just waiting for someone to walk past the landing, and he's like, "Is that you, Catherine? How was your day?"
How was my day?! HOW WAS MY FUCKING DAY?! My father is a FUCKING ASSHOLE, that's how my fucking day was! I was spawned by some worthless SHITSACK who writes a FUCKING LETTER telling my mum how we all ruined his fucking life, fucks off to another country for three weeks and then COMES BACK TO TORTURE US SOME MORE. I have to go through life knowing that fifty percent of my DNA is made up of FILTHY EVIL HEN GENES. How was YOUR day, you fucking cunt?! Oh wait, I don't give a shit.
If there's any justice in this world, he'll die alone, unloved, and in agony. And in the next world, he'll spent eternity in an icy fucking void with only himself for company. No audience to fucking hold forth at. Nobody to blame for whatever the fuck is wrong with his life. Just him. Forever. With himself.
Johnny broke his hand a couple of weeks ago - it's a massive, plaster-and-gauze-wrapped claw that makes him look like the baddie on Inspector Gadget, not easy to miss - and of course the Hen has been going on about the lack of progress at Lincluden. Of course, he could have fucking gone down and fucking done some fucking work on it his fucking self, if he hadn't fucked off to Egypt for three weeks after dumping his wife of thirty-odd years in a FUCKING LETTER, the fucking twat, but no, obviously this situation is everyone's fault but his. Johnny being distracted and upset enough to close a fucking van door on his own fucking hand couldn't have anything to do with the fact that his father just fucking abandoned his family and left him personally holding the bag to the tune of a £350,000 property that's half-finished and worth fuck-all.
Ugh. I came upstairs last night and he was sitting in the office with the door wide open like a bloated, poisonous spider, just waiting for someone to walk past the landing, and he's like, "Is that you, Catherine? How was your day?"
How was my day?! HOW WAS MY FUCKING DAY?! My father is a FUCKING ASSHOLE, that's how my fucking day was! I was spawned by some worthless SHITSACK who writes a FUCKING LETTER telling my mum how we all ruined his fucking life, fucks off to another country for three weeks and then COMES BACK TO TORTURE US SOME MORE. I have to go through life knowing that fifty percent of my DNA is made up of FILTHY EVIL HEN GENES. How was YOUR day, you fucking cunt?! Oh wait, I don't give a shit.
If there's any justice in this world, he'll die alone, unloved, and in agony. And in the next world, he'll spent eternity in an icy fucking void with only himself for company. No audience to fucking hold forth at. Nobody to blame for whatever the fuck is wrong with his life. Just him. Forever. With himself.
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