The Martyr Exploded
What a trip. I say that a lot, don’t I? What a trip. Yeah i guess I do. Well that’s ok. I’m superfuckingcool, thus I do whatever the fuck I want.
OK so here’s the deal. My Uncle Burford has been paying close attention to my blogs. Too close attention. The guy is out of his gourd. He hates me and rightly so. I spent a significant amount of time dating his daughter (my cousin). Most of you think that’s wrong and that’s fine. If you saw this girl, you would date her too. Even if she were your own sister. You’d still date her. And don’t tell me you wouldn’t because you would. I’m never wrong.
So the subject of my love and burning desire, and cousin. Her name is Penelope. That is not pronounced PAH-NELLA-PEE. It is pronounced PEENA-LOPE.
So Penelope and I dated for some time. Oh for fuck’s sake. I can hear you in your head not pronouncing the name correctly. I’m just gonna call her Peenalope. Better?
So Uncle Burford has never liked me. I’m free-spirited, sexy, fairly demented, and I don’t bend. Uncle Burford HATES that. He is rich as Hell. Well not rich next to someone who really is rich. But he’s richer than people living in Oshawa. Let’s go with that.
He’s used to being surrounded by a bunch of emotionally and creatively bankrupt malcontents who BEND because they don’t want to be in the bad graces of a semi-wealthy man. And who would?
ME!!! THAT’S WHO!!!
Ok without going into the really juicy stuff (I’ll save that for another day), Peenalope and I aren’t together anymore. Uncle Burford has made it abundantly clear true love is unacceptable in his world of tedium and financial stability. I walked away from the whole thing, not because I was sick of his shit, but because Cousinlove is wrong. I saw the err of my ways and wanted to return to a world of REAL debauchery. I wasn’t into the whole let’s all be bored out of our fucking skulls and talk shit about people who aren’t around to defend themselves.
Regardless, Uncle Burford is reading my blog daily. He has deemed me a threat to life and is doing his noble duty of keeping tabs on me. I really crossed the line a little while back when I expressed my disdain for cottages. I apologized publicly and humiliatingly, so hopefully I don’t have to worry about me disappearing one day. Rich people can do that. Not to mention, what kind of a horrible asshole disrespects cottages? I have put contingencies in place should an “accident” ever befall me.
I can’t be as X-rated in my blogs as I would like to, because Uncle Burford is watching closely and takes it out on the lovely Peenalope whenever i say something wrong. If you knew Peenalope, you would know she doesn’t deserve the scorn from any other human being except for me. I can scorn her all I want because I am macho, and oriental.
Moral of this story? Don’t fuck your cousin.
Actually I don’t think that’s it. The whole time I was with Peenalope I was led to live in fear of Uncle Burford who I hadn’t met. I made concessions and tried to make changes for her because I love her. That’s what you do when you love someone. Love is so fucking beautiful. Love is that favourite song. It’s just fucking love. Everyone needs to stop trying to intimidate love and let it have its day. All the acrimonious squabbling doesn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. When there is love, it just doesn’t fucking matter. I love love. And there is no power in the universe that could ever stop Peenalope and I from loving each other.
Regardless, now the whole thing is over. Instead of trying to change and become a better person, I decided to accept the person that I am.
I’m the bad guy.