Post by facethedoll on Oct 23, 2022 11:22:56 GMT -5
“The question you asked, ‘if I could fight anyone, who would it be?’ was not a very difficult one to answer. My life has been full to the brim of people whom I would have given my left tit to assault as a grown up in a legal capacity. The problem is that the list is longer than my legs and nowhere near as sexy. And at the top of that list is Francine Kearse-Fagan
Francine grew up in the shitty side of brooklyn before it was popular to live there, and more than anything she wanted a way out. So she did what most girls her age did. She found an available man who wasn’t difficult to look at and hoped he’d amount to something that could give her life meaning. Direction. What she found was Paul Fagan. A skin and bones boy who was either hit too much or not enough. Sure, he was a straight A student and had never made a move on any girl, which meant he had jesus in his heart. Or some other dude in his ass. But he was timid. And that didn’t go well in Brooklyn, then or now. She could have found another man to marry. A real one. One that wouldn’t collapse at the first sign of difficulty. But sadly making decisions was never her strong suit. And so the story that I had to pay for went as so;
They married at the end of their high school graduation ceremony practically, and he got a job working at a local factory that produced safety equipment for construction workers. The owner took a liking to him, and promoted him fast. Paul was anal about safety and making sure things were done right. They needed a guy like that. And he rose to the occasion for the first, and only time, in his life. He was able to afford a house, which back then who couldn’t? And soon their first child was on the way. Or first two, actually. And things were great for awhile. Over a decade. But then, things changed.
The old man who ran the factory was even older, and he decided it was time to step down, and so he fucking died. And his son took over. His son who had left the fathers business for his own, and just wanted to unload it as fast as he could. But he wasn’t dumb. He wanted to see if there was anyone he could shift from this place to another. So he held parties and met employees, and then he met Paul. And decided that if he was going to leave Brooklyn with anything, it would be with Paul’s wife.
They began an affair and for 2 years they made it seem like the three of them were all friends. They went on vacations together, and they spent holidays together, and then one day, Bosses son hits it big. He had started a small export/import business and somehow he scored a contract that made it worth more than he could have ever imagined. He was rich almost overnight. Rich people think of the world in different terms than you and I. They do a lot of shit that we never could. Pay for other people to go to prison for them in their place. Pay people to mirror their diet so they can test the accuracy of genetic sampling. You know what rich people don’t do? They don’t share. And now that he was rich and powerful, he was out to make Paul’s wife his own, and Paul’s life a living hell.
It took him less than one year, not even a full 365, to get her to leave her 3 children. 12, 12, and 2. I am many things, judges. But a monster like that? I could never be. Well, maybe. Maybe. But for the point I’m trying to make; She looked at three faces. Faces who would not be had she not married a loser with a learning disability, and she left them. And while she was whisked away to a life of caviar and dreams, her doting husband fell into depression. The rich boy closed the factory and Paul along with everyone else were sent off with pink slips and red faces. And while having an eye for detail is a good skill to have, it shouldn’t be your only one. And for Paul, it was. Plus, I’m sure no one wants to see a broken man stand before them trying to figure out his place in your company when he barely has a place in the world.
Eventually, Paul did what all broken and pathetic men do. And he turned to drugs. Expensive drugs. And in order to afford those expensive drugs, he became what a lot of broken men become. a criminal.
Paul took up with the local gangs, both maifa and street kind. He began doing their bitchwork. The type of stuff that they would never give a full fledged member or even someone they liked. “Take this gun to the Bronx and dump it.” “Take this package to Manhattan and don’t let no cops see ya.” Every job he did he was this close to getting pinched or whacked out or worse. But that didn’t matter; Because if he lived, he’d get drugs. And if he died, well the pain he was trying to escape would finally be over and then he wouldn’t need the drugs anymore. Meanwhile, his son had dropped out of school and was doing the exact same shit. But not for drug money. For baby food and diapers money. For medicine for sick kids money. At 12, his son was more of a man than he’d ever been in his life. And while this was happening, while three children were set on a course that would change them forever, the mother of these children was off dressing in the finest silks, and vacationing on private islands. With not even a batted eyelash in concern to the family she left behind, and left to burn.
Thankfully, it ended the way most of these do. With the attempted murder of a child and then attempted murder by a child. I’m sure you’re confused why I chose Francine instead of Paul. Paul was the true villain, wasn’t he? He’s the one who gave up. He’s the one who was too spineless to care for his children. Why not fight him? Because I can. Because he’s still alive. And because none of this was his fault, really.
The jewish people say that if you don’t come from a jewish woman, then you are not really jewish. I believe the same can be said about being cursed. If you do not come from a cursed soul, you can not become a cursed soul. And Francine Kearse-Fagan was as cursed as any vagina ever was.
She died alone, and unforgiven. After years of watching her oldest son make something out of his life, and then watching as one of her youngest sons grew up to idolize him, she tried to make peace with her family. It was short lived. She died the way she lived. Pathetically, and alone. Her greatest mistake was not that she saw a weak and pathetic man and she fell in love. Her greatest mistake was being stupid enough to think
Now let me tell you when I’d fight her.
It would not be the day she left 3 children to fend for themselves. I can see why some might think that. It wouldn’t be the day she married the idiot who would ruin so many lives just by being in them. It wouldn’t even be the day they first met. No. I’d beat her the day before her 10th birthday. She told my brothers that was the best birthday she ever had. All her friends came and she got so many nice presents, and that would be the day she would live over and over again if she could. I wouldn’t want a match, though. I’d want to crawl into her room the night before, and grab her by her sizable forehead, and break her jaw, and her nose, and her orbital socket, and her collarbone. I would not stop and I would not slow until I knew I had changed her face and her fate forever. As she laid there, beaten, bloody, and broken, I’d take the largest, taco bell shit anyone had ever seen on the best presents she ever got in her life. And then I’d set them on fire.
This woman, this weak willed disgusting whore of a mother made every wrong decision she could ever make, one after the other after the other. And because of that she not only ruined every relationship I ever had or will have, but she also denied me Christmas joy, Mothers day appreciation, and so many happy birthdays.
I’d really like to return the favor.
Francine grew up in the shitty side of brooklyn before it was popular to live there, and more than anything she wanted a way out. So she did what most girls her age did. She found an available man who wasn’t difficult to look at and hoped he’d amount to something that could give her life meaning. Direction. What she found was Paul Fagan. A skin and bones boy who was either hit too much or not enough. Sure, he was a straight A student and had never made a move on any girl, which meant he had jesus in his heart. Or some other dude in his ass. But he was timid. And that didn’t go well in Brooklyn, then or now. She could have found another man to marry. A real one. One that wouldn’t collapse at the first sign of difficulty. But sadly making decisions was never her strong suit. And so the story that I had to pay for went as so;
They married at the end of their high school graduation ceremony practically, and he got a job working at a local factory that produced safety equipment for construction workers. The owner took a liking to him, and promoted him fast. Paul was anal about safety and making sure things were done right. They needed a guy like that. And he rose to the occasion for the first, and only time, in his life. He was able to afford a house, which back then who couldn’t? And soon their first child was on the way. Or first two, actually. And things were great for awhile. Over a decade. But then, things changed.
The old man who ran the factory was even older, and he decided it was time to step down, and so he fucking died. And his son took over. His son who had left the fathers business for his own, and just wanted to unload it as fast as he could. But he wasn’t dumb. He wanted to see if there was anyone he could shift from this place to another. So he held parties and met employees, and then he met Paul. And decided that if he was going to leave Brooklyn with anything, it would be with Paul’s wife.
They began an affair and for 2 years they made it seem like the three of them were all friends. They went on vacations together, and they spent holidays together, and then one day, Bosses son hits it big. He had started a small export/import business and somehow he scored a contract that made it worth more than he could have ever imagined. He was rich almost overnight. Rich people think of the world in different terms than you and I. They do a lot of shit that we never could. Pay for other people to go to prison for them in their place. Pay people to mirror their diet so they can test the accuracy of genetic sampling. You know what rich people don’t do? They don’t share. And now that he was rich and powerful, he was out to make Paul’s wife his own, and Paul’s life a living hell.
It took him less than one year, not even a full 365, to get her to leave her 3 children. 12, 12, and 2. I am many things, judges. But a monster like that? I could never be. Well, maybe. Maybe. But for the point I’m trying to make; She looked at three faces. Faces who would not be had she not married a loser with a learning disability, and she left them. And while she was whisked away to a life of caviar and dreams, her doting husband fell into depression. The rich boy closed the factory and Paul along with everyone else were sent off with pink slips and red faces. And while having an eye for detail is a good skill to have, it shouldn’t be your only one. And for Paul, it was. Plus, I’m sure no one wants to see a broken man stand before them trying to figure out his place in your company when he barely has a place in the world.
Eventually, Paul did what all broken and pathetic men do. And he turned to drugs. Expensive drugs. And in order to afford those expensive drugs, he became what a lot of broken men become. a criminal.
Paul took up with the local gangs, both maifa and street kind. He began doing their bitchwork. The type of stuff that they would never give a full fledged member or even someone they liked. “Take this gun to the Bronx and dump it.” “Take this package to Manhattan and don’t let no cops see ya.” Every job he did he was this close to getting pinched or whacked out or worse. But that didn’t matter; Because if he lived, he’d get drugs. And if he died, well the pain he was trying to escape would finally be over and then he wouldn’t need the drugs anymore. Meanwhile, his son had dropped out of school and was doing the exact same shit. But not for drug money. For baby food and diapers money. For medicine for sick kids money. At 12, his son was more of a man than he’d ever been in his life. And while this was happening, while three children were set on a course that would change them forever, the mother of these children was off dressing in the finest silks, and vacationing on private islands. With not even a batted eyelash in concern to the family she left behind, and left to burn.
Thankfully, it ended the way most of these do. With the attempted murder of a child and then attempted murder by a child. I’m sure you’re confused why I chose Francine instead of Paul. Paul was the true villain, wasn’t he? He’s the one who gave up. He’s the one who was too spineless to care for his children. Why not fight him? Because I can. Because he’s still alive. And because none of this was his fault, really.
The jewish people say that if you don’t come from a jewish woman, then you are not really jewish. I believe the same can be said about being cursed. If you do not come from a cursed soul, you can not become a cursed soul. And Francine Kearse-Fagan was as cursed as any vagina ever was.
She died alone, and unforgiven. After years of watching her oldest son make something out of his life, and then watching as one of her youngest sons grew up to idolize him, she tried to make peace with her family. It was short lived. She died the way she lived. Pathetically, and alone. Her greatest mistake was not that she saw a weak and pathetic man and she fell in love. Her greatest mistake was being stupid enough to think
Now let me tell you when I’d fight her.
It would not be the day she left 3 children to fend for themselves. I can see why some might think that. It wouldn’t be the day she married the idiot who would ruin so many lives just by being in them. It wouldn’t even be the day they first met. No. I’d beat her the day before her 10th birthday. She told my brothers that was the best birthday she ever had. All her friends came and she got so many nice presents, and that would be the day she would live over and over again if she could. I wouldn’t want a match, though. I’d want to crawl into her room the night before, and grab her by her sizable forehead, and break her jaw, and her nose, and her orbital socket, and her collarbone. I would not stop and I would not slow until I knew I had changed her face and her fate forever. As she laid there, beaten, bloody, and broken, I’d take the largest, taco bell shit anyone had ever seen on the best presents she ever got in her life. And then I’d set them on fire.
This woman, this weak willed disgusting whore of a mother made every wrong decision she could ever make, one after the other after the other. And because of that she not only ruined every relationship I ever had or will have, but she also denied me Christmas joy, Mothers day appreciation, and so many happy birthdays.
I’d really like to return the favor.