This is a draft, please do not rate this yet. I would love, love, love comments and suggestions, however.
"Bay-bee? Olivia! Come help me find my shoes. You aint been wearin' my heels, have you?"
She's 'bout dumb as a box of rocks. Yep, pure solid evidence that there are stupid questions, comments, and people. I aint never put on her heels or anything else she got. Doing so'd mean that I'd want to be like her. Why'd I want to be like a two-bit skank, even if she is my mama?
Hell, it was her tawdry behavior ruined my papaw's good name and killed him. Being a man of God, mama's wild ways sent him packin' to the Lord before I was born, which meant granny had to move out of the parsonage and straight into the poor house, which is where we're livin' now. Yep, just me, granny, and my lush of a mama and her spirited self all living a life of sin, despair, and total chaos.
Now there's a lot of reasons I hate my mama, but her special friendship with men is for sure at the top of my list. Something always happens to remind me. In fact, last Wednesday I was walking to the Tastee Freeze for a .25 ice cream special, and wouldn't ya know, there was a couple of her special friends talking 'bout her. None of 'em saw me, although they wouldn't a cared anyway if they had—it's just one of the perks of the name. Their conversation kinda went like this:
Man #1 says, “Where you been, boy?”
Man #2 replies, “Dunham!”
Man #1 snorts, “Ha ha! I dun ham earlier tonight myself.”
Man #2 brags, “Thanks for loosin' 'er up for me.”
'Loosin' 'er up.' Now there's a right fine thing to say in any company, and I may be young, but I been 'round enough to know what it means. You can figure that I kinda lost my interest in the soft serve ice cream special after hearing that lively exchange of words.
Just another reason I hate my mama: she forgot real early on she didn't give birth to her best friend.