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Preface

I think it's best I start things off with a serving of humble pie. I realize I should probably show my mom more respect. I could definitely better reflect my maternal appreciation for the roof above my head and the food on the table. Hell, even the fact that this Blog exists is a testament to the fact that my mom did some things right.

This Blog is merely my attempt to provide an enjoyable narrative of my life. I'm not asking for sympathy, more freedom, or support. I'm just trying to get out an entertaining read that people can relate to and follow along with.

I would recommend going to the archives and starting from the beginning with "My Entrance," and working your way up the list from there. Enjoy.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Chapter Fourteen: Exodus Part Two

While my mom was out stalking the local hookah bar like a wolf prowling about a flock of sheep, I remained consumed with anxiety in my room. When these maternal freak outs occur it becomes difficult to concentrate on anything other than how infuriated I am. I wasn't feeling as imprisoned, as I was frustrated that my mom did not see my side of things in what I felt was some pretty compelling argumentation. I was asking for a pretty unreasonable favor in many respects.

Once my mom got home from her stakeout, she came into my room and charged me with disrespecting her in front of her friends. The way I saw it, there were plenty of opportunities for my mom and I to work out a compromise. My mom took the hard-line on tobacco use, despite the obvious hypocrisy in the smoking breaks she would take during our argument.

Some insults were exchanged. For some reason, my mom and I used our familiarity with each other as justification for the way we were berating each other. Sometimes it's just easy to be the roughest with the people you know best. I just couldn't resist pointing out all the little lies my mom likes to tell in order to manipulate situations and people's perceptions of her. Of course she denied all allegations like an expert psychotic. As if she would ever admit to flaws in her method.

Things started getting feisty. Some of the quips we got off would have made the hosts of MTV's hit Yo Momma quiver with the severity and magnitude of our mutual scathing. My mom demanded possession of my cellular phone. But the last time she took my phone she proceeded to call all my friends and try to extort information that would preferably result in a permanent grounding or police involvement. This was not something me, nor any of my friends, wanted to go through a second time.

I denied her request, making clear that we weren't going to have a repeat catastrophe on our hands. Then she came at me, grasping for my cell much like a crack addict would go after his stash. With some basic defensive maneuvers I was able to keep my moms grubby hands off my phone. I felt justified in taking a stand, my mom can't be the community watchdog mom. Such attempts at surveillance and prohibition never, ever work.

My mom was stunned that I wasn't simply handing over the phone. She tried to hit me a few times, but in my mom's middle age and femininity, her jabs did little to accomplish the desired effect. My mom was becoming more frustrated than I was. She was fuming, about how she gives up so much so I can have things, and I'm so ungrateful. Probably true, but just feeding, clothing, and housing someone doesn't give you the right to harass them. Not to mention, I did have other offers to go live someone, where I could be someone else's 'problem.' But of course my mom would never allow that.

Her frustration culminated as she stomped upstairs to go cancel my cellphone's service. She told me I could give her my cell phone, or get out. So I got out.

Out the backdoor, and sprinting across a backyard. I knew my mom was likely to call the police so I took off as fast as I could toward my friend Stephanie's neighborhood. After dozens of vaulted fences, I found myself navigating a log that was laid upon a shallow, but bitter-cold creek. Had I slipped off, it may not have been life threatening but it surely would have sucked balls.

I managed to exit the small woods area, and immediately began running toward Stephanie's house. It was the coldest night of the year; I had two pairs of pants, four layers of shirts, gloves, and I was still a bit nippy. My toes were the worst though, in my classless sneakers and thin cotton socks. I couldn't really complain though, life doesn't exactly reward those who run away from their parents. I was definitely no exception.

I arrived at Stephanie's house, but my mom had made good on her threats-my cell had been disabled from the T-Mobile network. And so I had to go on a stakeout of my own. It was getting to be late in the evening and I could most assuredly not just knock on Stephanie's front door. Her parents would never allow me to spend the night without questions and confirmation from my mom. So I watched, and I waited.

I tried throwing my gloves at Stephanie's window a few times, or peering through windows to get her attention. It was pretty creepy, and as time wore on, getting very desperate as well. After what was roughly an hour and a half I managed to get Stephanie's attention. By lying on my stomach on her deck, and peering through a tiny crack in the window. She came over and opened the door. She understood the circumstances of my situation and offered up her room as a place to post up for the night. After a few more minutes to make sure the coast was all clear, we moved swiftly and silently to her room, where I immediately hid in her closet. Better than hiding in some bush outside, getting frostbite.

I was exhausted and passed out withing a few minutes of laying down. But apparently closets aren't designed to be good beds. With my legs curled up the whole time so the door could properly shut, my sleep would often be interrupted by vicious Charlie horses. My half-awake thoughts generally went as such: Nothing like taking a nice stretch to....oh wait, I'm hiding in a closet, and my mom probably has the police looking for me.

Then things really kicked up. My mom started calling my closest homies, but soon focused in on Nick. She had his number from my cellphone bill. Her calls awoke him from his sleep and she announced her intentions.
"I know Andrew is over there. I know your parents aren't home. I already have the police involved so it's best you just put him on the phone and let him know I'm on the way."

"Patty, Andrew isn't here. My parent's are here, they're just asleep. It's 1 a.m."
A few minutes later, Nick was again awoken. This time by the door bell. My mom was outside his house. Another phone call.
"I'm at your front door, and I know you and Andrew are inside. Just put Andrew on the phone, I know your parents aren't here."

"My parents are just sleeping, like normal people do at night! The reason no one is answering is because it's so late! I'll go put them on the phone for you, if you don't believe me."
Nick got his parents to talk to Patty, and inform her that I was not, in fact, hiding in their house. My mom returned home, momentarily defeated. She then called Fairfax County Police and notified them that I was a missing person. (How come I never got an Amber alert?)

I woke up the next morning to the sound of footsteps. Stephanie's parents were awake, and they were moving around. Every step could potentially be one more step towards my discovery, and the subsequent complications that would arise. It didn't help that Stephanie's Labrador smelled my presence, and the scent of my dog on my clothes. Stephanie's dog was frantically trying to get into her room, and Stephanie's mom knew there was a pretty good chance there was someone in her room.

Stephanie's parents confronted her about whether or not she was hiding someone in her room. To Stephanie's credit, she fiercly denied the accusation and succeed in keeping her parents out of her room. As soon as her parents retreated to their own bedroom, I was down the stairs and gone. My phone had been reactivated and I called my dad for him to come pick me up.

He said we were gonna go for a drive and have a talk. There were uncomfortable conversations ahead, but that was to be expected. I was still trying to make sense of exactly what had happened the previous night. My memories were getting foggier by the minute, shrouded with emotional clouds. It had been a hectic twenty four hours. The time had come to give in.

2 comments:

  1. Tired of my mom checking my texts, I bought a secret cellular phone that only I and a few of
    my closest friends knew about. I kept the thing with me wherever I went. I went to bed with it. There was no way my mommy would find it. Then one day...

    One day I was up in my bedroom, waiting for a call from Nick. We were planning to go buy some less than legal illicit substances and consume copious quantities of them over the
    weekend. It was going to be good times for all, I couldn't wait after being oppressed by my mom for so long. The illegal drugs would give me the courage to tell Nick how I felt about him.

    I was consumed with my thoughts of the impending awesome weekend. "It's time to get fucked up," I said with a sly grin as I daydreamed about Nick. The call finally came.

    Unfortunately, I left the ringer on loud. 50 cent's In da Club blasted in my room. I turned
    it off quickly but I was fucked; rap was also forbidden by my SS officer like mommy. I knew
    she could hear it from downstairs.

    I started to sweat as I heard her storm up the steps like the men looking for Anne Frank. I
    shoved the phone under me and tried to play it cool. My friends said that I was a great
    liar, so I hoped that I could talk my way out of this one.

    My mom, like the Kool Aid man, busted into the room. "Where is it?" she said with no emotion
    in her voice. "Where is what?" I replied as cooly as possible. She combed the entire room in her search, leaving no action figure unturned. Unfortunately, Nick tried to call back. She heard the phone vibrating under me. She sat down next to me and threw me over her lap, revealing my secret phone.

    "Oh shit," I thought as I contemplated being grounded for a month. She looked at the phone
    curiously. "Andrew, you never learn do you? This time, I'm not grounding you. It's no use."

    I couldn't believe it, had the goon advice on how to train my mom to be normal finally
    worked? I sighed with relief.

    "I'm going to punish you," she said calmly. In my still vunerable position, she pulled down
    my pants. "It's been a while since you've been spanked. I think it's just what the doctor
    ordered!" I cried out, "but mommmmmmmm! Studies show that spanking is bad for kids. I have a peer reviewed jour..."

    "Zip it!" she said as she raised her and and swatted. My conditioned fear had overtaken me,
    I forgot that I was now 32 years old. A spank from a 120 pound woman wasn't going to be
    painful at all. As the thought ran through my head she hit me again. "you know, this is
    almost pleasurable," I thought. If that was my punishment, no problem. Except a new problem
    emerged.

    I liked the way my thighs felt, I liked the way her hand felt on my bottom. I started to pop wood. If she felt my erection I was done for. Grounded forever. I tried to think about
    baseball but it wasn't working, it felt too good. But then it was over. Thank god.

    "Get up," she said with a smile. I couldn't get up until my huge boner went down. "Uh...
    mom..." I tried to struggle for a reason to not get up. She replied back, "Andrew, it's
    over. Punishment's done. Get up you're done." I didn't move.

    She whispered in my ear "Are you not getting up because of this?" and clutched my rager. My
    face turned bright red and I turned away in shame. "My my, my little boy is growing up," she said. She began to stroke me slowly. "Andy..." she said seductively as she turned my face
    towards hers.

    She put her lips up to my ear and whispered,

    "Call me Patty"

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