What to do when your family turns on you?

What happens when the entire family turns against you? In horror fashion that is.

When I mention this I’m referring to scare tactics. Halloween is right around the corner and we all
enjoy a good spook. That’s great. I’m on board for that. It’s one day a year. Lets all scare the piss out of each other. That’s awesome. Hooray.

I don’t believe this should be conducted on a daily basis as it seems to be in my home. It’s dangerous. I believe these violent actions may be illegal and has me three seconds away from cardiac arrest.

Christmas and Easter mornings are not the appropriate moments to scare your family members to death. That’s just my opinion. I shouldn’t have to wake up on Veterans Day and have my goddamn offspring and soulmate hide in sink base cabinets or behind radiators to eventually arise horrifically as they are dressed like that dude from “Jeepers Creepers” with a nine foot wing span sporting halitosis and a worn out leather trench coat resembling the appearance of a deceased “Allman Brother” as I routinely walk around to start my day. It’s just fucking wrong. I have ulcers and continuously piss blood as a result of these daily disturbing events I must endure.

For some strange reason my wife believes her step father is Steven King. She also had a confirmed love affair with the legendary Halloween serial killer Michael Myers. I got that shit on tape. I swear. It was either the real Mike Myers or Mike “The Situation” in a rubber mask. I’m supporting her affair with Myers. That dude is a legend. He walks slower than a leg amputee but somehow catches Usain Bolt to drive a pitchfork through him so if my wife wants to sleep with him I’m cool with that. That’s hot. If she so much has touched that greasy ass Jersey shore roasted pepper I’m filing for separation. Who has he killed???? Besides life??? Please….

Shit. Now I’m confused because this supposedly “Mikey Myers” banging my girl had TKA blasting in the background and a tongue ring. Hmmmmmmmm. OMG. She banged the “Situation”.. I was ok with Mike Myers. That dude’s a legend. Shit. My kids kinda look like the “Situation”… I’m fucked.

If my wife was given a choice to fornicate with Johnny Depp or Freddy Krueger this horny horror film hoe would jump on the dream diminishing burnt serial killer like kids at a Bronx hopscotch tournament.

I’m ok with all of this. It’s when she involves my children that I begin to become concerned. Leave the innocent youth out of it my love. This could damage the children’s future.

My kids are cute. They have rosy red cheeks. They contract strep throat three times per week. They excel at math. They have never had a cavity. Their hair styles haven’t changed since they were extracted from their Mommy’s womb. They are perfect.

Until they attempt to scare their father.

When most men finish the work day, they look forward to coming home to their family. They look to take their shoes off, put their feet up and relax.

Not me. When I come home from work I need to turn on my ghost detector devices, eat garlic and enter my home with three gallons of holy water and retain the protective services from that Corey Feldman character sporting the red bandana from “Lost Boys.”

I must walk into my loving & embracing home with a flame thrower strapped to my back, a grenade launcher as I drive a tank through the front entrance for self defense from these fucking animals. I thought we were family. It’s an adventure. My home is “Night of the living dead” as Michael Jackson serenades the room with “Thriller”. My wife dances around the house doing that dumb “Thriller” dance where the arms bounce side to side. It will make any human vomit on any given day.

Again, I seem to find this erotic death dance freaking sexy because I could find sexiness within a scientific dissection of a toad.

So I begin to bounce with her in unison. She regurgitates. Whatever. I entertain this disruption of life! I live for this shit. I swear I have a problem. I can find sex appeal in running tap water. So I proceed to try and touch her boobie during this offensive dance motion and my fingers are severed by a mouse trap carefully placed on her nipple.

Again I was set up. WTF!

My wife and her satanic children wait for me. They spend the whole day devising a plan to scare the bejesus out of me. And it works! Every single time.

On a normal day, I’ll enter my home and my wife will jump out of a frying pan to startle me. My sons will hide behind a door. Simple scare tactics. Nothing crazy. I adjust. I adapt.

Then they decided to take this shit to the next level. Unbeknown to me.

They went against all scare etiquette. They used physical contact. That’s a no no! Scare but never touch. That’s the rule.

I came home yesterday. I was tired. I wanted to relax. I sat on my couch. I cracked a beer and I laid my head back. All of a sudden a chicken finger greasy ass hand infested with middle school diseases grabbed my mouth and nostrils as he hooked my lip like a grouper and screamed “Boo.” I jumped up like a white man at a crack den and screamed like a newborn trying to locate her Mommas titty!

My wife and two boys laughed at me like I invented Rocky Dennis and gave birth to the creators of The Sharknado franchise. It was embarrassing. I have never been so humiliated.

This child of mine crossed the line and my stupid ass wife was in on it as she chuckled trying to hide her amusement. Humus infused belches and periodic gas extractions should have tipped me off. I wasn’t paying attention. She’s a slob. A hot slob but a fucking slob regardless. Not gonna lie. It was sexy.

Holidays are coming. These little fuckers will all have anticipated Christmas lists. I can’t wait. I will simply lay motionless with hospice by my side wiping the baby food from my cheek as a result of the previous nine months of torture I was subjected to. I will no longer have movement in my spine because my cute son with his cavity less teeth decided to wrap his motherly demonic inspired paws around my neck while I brought home Dominos for these malnutrition unappreciative little humps.

The balls on them.

I tell my wife each and everyday as she kicks open the bathroom door as I’m taking a crap, STOP!!! I’m worth much more alive than I am dead.

Dumbass!

 

 

4 Replies to “What to do when your family turns on you?”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *