Daddy hasn’t been very happy lately.  He says some bad words, words Mommy would fuss about if she knew he were saying them.  I think he’s talking about her.  I’m not sure—Mommy’s not around when he says those things.  Like ‘fucking whore.’  I don’t know what that means but I think maybe Daddy is calling Mommy a horse, and that’s just not very nice.  I told Daddy that and he yelled at me, told me to go to my room. 

I don’t like when Daddy is all mad like this.  Normally, he’s a nice guy and plays with me.  He does this funny Grover voice—you know the furry blue monster from Sesame Street.  I don’t like Elmo much and Daddy says he is annoying with his stupid little laugh.  He also makes faces and I laugh at them.  When he’s mad he makes faces, too, but I don’t laugh at those.  I just go to my room and play with my dolls until he comes in to see how I’m doing.


“How’s it going, Pumkin?” he’ll ask.




“You sure?”  He always looks like he has done something wrong when he pokes his head in the door.  Sometimes, I wonder if he did anything to make Mommy mad.  I know Mommy is always making him mad—why else would he call her all those names when she isn’t around?


Daddy’s kind of weird, too.  He can’t decide if he wants to be angry at Mommy or nice to her.  When she’s around he smiles a lot and says nice things to her.  I heard him tell her one time that she gives great blowjobs.  I don’t know what that is, but Mommy giggled and said “not tonight.”  I felt kind of bad for Daddy.  He frowned and walked out of the room without saying another word. 


Later that night I walked into the den where he sat reading a book and gave him a hug.  Then I blew in his face.  He got kind of mad at me, fussed that it wasn’t nice to blow in people’s faces like that.


I told him I was sorry and that I felt bad that Mommy wouldn’t give him a blowjob. 


“What?” he asked.  His eyes got all wide and he stared at me like he couldn’t believe what I had said. 


“Well, you told Mommy that she gives great blowjobs and she told you ‘no,’ so I thought I would give you one.  Did I blow too hard?”


Daddy’s face got all red and then he started laughing. 


“Are you still mad?” I asked.


“No,” he said and gave me a big hug—a good hug.  The kind that makes Daddy feel like Daddy again.  “I’m sorry for fussing at you,” he said and told me to go on to bed. 


It’s been a while since I got a hug like that—two or three weeks, I guess.  Daddy’s been in a really bad mood—or as Mommy calls it, a bear of a mood—and I’ve just tried to stay in my room with my dolls.


Yesterday Mommy was late getting home from work.  He kept walking around the house, from the kitchen to the front window, all mad and fussing.  A few times he called Mommy a fucking bitch.  I’m not sure what that is, but I don’t think it’s a horse. 


When Mommy got home they had a big argument.  Daddy yelled at her and Mommy yelled back.  I went into my room and held my favorite doll.  Her name is Emmy and she doesn’t have any hair. She’s one of those Baby Alive dolls that cry when it’s hungry.  It must have been really hungry because it started whining like a real baby.  I told her to shut the fuck up, just like I’ve heard Daddy say a few times to Mommy.


I got in bed and pulled the covers over my head and held Emmy tight.  She stopped crying, but it took a while.  Mommy and Daddy still argued and I think Mommy started crying. 


I guess Mommy was going to her room when she passed my door.  She yelled something about a divorce.  I don’t know what that is but it couldn’t have been good.  Daddy yelled back and Mommy yelled louder.  Then there was this loud sound, like maybe something hitting the wall or the floor and then everything went quiet. 


Then Daddy started crying.  I’ve never heard Daddy cry so things must have gotten really bad.  A few minutes later he poked his head in my room, looking like he done got into trouble again.  He had a hard time talking and his face was all red.


“Pumkin’, you do Daddy a favor and stay in your room, okay?”


I nodded.  “Okay.”


He smiled.  “I love you, Pumkin’,” he said and closed the door. 


The rest of the night everything was quiet.  Well, there wasn’t anymore yelling and fussing going on.  There were a couple of bumps and it sounded like something was being moved around, but that was okay.  Mommy and Daddy weren’t arguing anymore so the bumping didn’t bother me. 


I got up this morning and went into the kitchen.  I didn’t see Mommy, and Daddy was asleep on the couch.  He had dirt on his pants and his boots.  I didn’t wake him up, just went back to my room and played with Emmy for a while. 


Daddy’s gotten up since then.  He poked his head in the door earlier, still looking like he got into trouble with Mommy.


“You hungry?” he asked.




“I’ll go cook you up something, okay?”




Daddy closed the door and Emmy started crying.  I didn’t tell her to shut the fuck up this time.  I just held her and lay back down in the bed.  I know Daddy is in trouble with Mommy for sure now.  Mommy never lets him cook—she says he can’t boil water without messing it up or something like that.  I don’t know what he did, but I hope Mommy forgives him soon.  I don’t want Daddy messing up my lunch….

  1. Violet says:

    Very good read, but too real…..too much of this really happens and for that…I don’t like it. But,…however, you do write some interesting stuff….

  2. Violet says:

    U didn’t disturb the rose bushes when you buried the body did you?

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