Today something else freaky happened.
I was staying home as usual, contemplating whether I should just give going to school alone another shot when there was loud banging at the front door.
I didn't bother answering it, coz I know Momma would do it, since she's usually the early bird for work, but when there was suddenly yelling involved, I knew something was up.
No one yells at Momma but me. That was the rule in this house.
My rule anyway, but still.
Anywho I went down to investigate, and I saw that it was Mrs. Crumps, the next door neighbour who "owns" the White Witch. The moment she saw me showing up, her voice seemed to have gotten an octave higher as she pointed that stupid nail-polished finger at me.
Mrs. Crumps: You! I know it's you! You did it, didn't you?! ADMIT IT!!!
Me: I have no idea what the fuck you're talking about, bitch! And get that fucking finger of yours off my face before I hack it off with a chainsaw!
Momma: Language, George!
Me: She started it!
Mrs. Crumps: (I'll just call her 'Bitch' for now) If you're not going to admit your handiwork, you better go check it out yourself!
Oh, I checked alright. I was not about to admit to something I KNOW I didn't do. Momma followed behind me to see what the hell the Bitch was talking about. She led me to her backyard where so-called prized apple trees (which looked more leafy than fruits, if you ask me) and pointed at one of them.
It was really some freaky shit.
The White Witch was fucking hanging by the neck on that tree.
Dead as a doornail.
With his guts sticking out.
Yes, you heard me. Guts sticking out.
Like it was fucking Saw VI or some shit. Like someone has gotten medieval on that bloody cat.
As much as I liked the White Witch to become roadkill, this was really fucked-up.
Bitch: See?? You see that?! Look what you did to poor Persia!!
Me: Me?! ME?! How the fuck did you come to that "brilliant" deduction, asswipe?!
Momma: George, langu...
Me: No, Momma! I will NOT watch my tongue! You fucking call this MY handiwork?! You think I'm THAT sick?! I never even touch that fucking cat!
Bitch: I know it's you! I KNOW IT'S YOU!! ADMIT IT, YOU LITTLE PIECE OF...
Momma: Hey, hey, if my daughter said she didn't do it, she didn't do it? How can you be sure it's her and not someone else?
Bitch: I KNOW it's your...whatever your fucking runt's gender is...it's ITS fault! I KNOW it is!! You and IT had never liked my Persia, always complaining and accusing that he raids your trash and make a mess, when Persia would never...
Me: I thought you said you don't own him, now you're saying you are?
Bitch: Th...Tha...That's... That's not the point of discussion here...
Momma: Actually it IS the point. Why would you care so much that this cat was killed if it wasn't yours in the first place? And "Persia"? Sounds like you are admitted what you've been denying all along.
Bitch: THAT'S NOT THE POINT!! IT'S NOT!!! The POINT is YOU KILLED MY CAT!! I'm not going to argue with you right now! I'm calling the cops on you! And don't you fucking leave town!
Leave town? Who does she think she is? The sheriff?
Anyway, she did call the cops and animal control on us, and the blues came to investigate, checking for any foul play after clearing the White Witch's body, and despite the Bitch's loud protests and insistence to the point of jumping up and down and banging and kicking and screaming like a fucking 5-year-old throwing a tantrum, they found nothing to say that we did anything to the White Witch.
Of course we didn't. How sick do they think we are? If you ask me, THEY'RE the sick ones to think that WE did it.
Momma had asked me if I really didn't do it and I snapped "You're sick" at her.
I just got back from feeding Bushy, and even then, I saw that Bitch peeking out of the window, to see if she could "catch us in the act". She's been staring out the window at us ever since the blues gave us the clean bill, giving me the stink-eye every time she caught me seeing her.
I bet she's doing it right now.
Fuck her.
Bitch.
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