Tag Archive: kid


When he met her she seemed like the sweetest thing. So caring and loving, full of compassion and understanding for everyone, a little emotional, yes, but all in all a wonderful creature. They married and she was possibly the greatest wife ever.

And then the baby arrived.

The little bundle of joy made him incredibly happy. He couldn’t wait to get back home from work just to see his precious little girl.  But as the time passed it turned out that this was his primary role – to watch the baby. Literally. No picking up or such nonsense because according to his dear wife, he wasn’t doing it right, he could drop the baby, that was not the proper way to change the diapers, she said, turn off the TV because it’s bad for the little one, she hissed. And the things went on and on.

The first year passed, then the second. Mommy dearest turned into Momzilla. All that hissing and biting spread on other people. Almost all the people. She started writing long angry posts on the social networks about anything that she couldn’t stand and it was all connected to their little girl. She was angry at people on the street because they were talking too loud when she took her little one on a walk. She had a fight with every neighbor in their building because she suspected one is smoking in his flat, the second was cooking something she could smell, the other was listening the music the baby could hear, and the list could go on and on. Nobody could visit them in their apartment because they were all annoying and not good for their daughter. In the meanwhile, the little girl continued to grow and started to become, well, to put it simply, a spoiled brat. That kind of a child that must always be the center of the universe, that won’t allow any adult to actually say the whole sentence without her screaming, yelling or throwing things just to get attention. Because everyone all the time must be listening what she had to say. All must be listening to her. Like her mother does.

As the time passed, the husband started to become quieter. He was still adoring his little one but from a distance. Because this was the only way he was allowed. He was sad and as the years come by, ashamed. Because of his wife behavior. Because of that mean, harsh and vicious woman she has become. And afraid that his little one is starting to grow into the same type as her momma. So he tried to talk with his once lovely wife, but then he discovered the hell’s fury. Her family tried to put some sense into it, but she furiously chased them away. Their friends tried a gentle approach and she spilled all her wrath on them.

And finally, she became bitter. Because from her point of view people were horrible, selfish, they betrayed her,  and she was just trying to raise her child. Not realizing that she is the mother source for all that misery.

Love is grand. Love is beautiful. Love can exist in so many ways and transform into most incredible shapes. But only if we respect it. And the people who are giving it.

Because we all deserve it, 177. Momzilla

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You know those sick bastards (and I`m sure you do) which are hiding and beating behind the bushes? That perverted type which is addressing you with a larynigitic voice „I would fuck youuuuuuuu...“ then following you home? The one which is jerking off and running after you in the same time? Those sorrowful creatures which you discover in almost every block when the night falls and on every beach during the summer?

The ones for which today you never go out alone at night, avoid walking in the parks or, God forbids, on some strange quiet alleys. Terrible, isn`t it?

But have you ever asked yourself what made them that way? Well, maybe this is the answer.

I`m sitting in a pretty pleasent company, on a house party, sipping some nice wine. And there we are, a bunch of laid back friends and new kith, joking and talking… You know how those things go. Like I said, I`m sitting cosily and bibbing my Chardonney, feeling fine, when out of the blue, one broad, a woman and a mother, starts with her dilemma:

Woman/mother: „I real think there is something wrong with our kid…..“

Audience: „Why? How do you mean?“

Woman/mother: „He˙s not jerking off!“

Audience: „?!?!?!?“ (how should you react on such a statement anyway?) …“Hmmmm…weeeell…hmmmmm…How old is he?“ – we ask embarrassingly.

Woman/mother: „12“ – she says.

Audience: „How do you know he`s not…you know….beating the monkey?“ – we ask again blinking in abashment.

Woman/mother: „I check! Every now and then, I crash suddenly into his room or bathroom and I still have managed to catch him!“

JESUS! Holy…Say what?!?!?

I almost dropped the glass! WTF?!?!? She does what?…It`s…You`re…Unbelievable!

No wonder he`s not jerking off! How could he, poor thing?

How in the world she doesn`t sees how traumatic it must be to the kid, all the time living in the fear if his mother will fly in the room (or bathroom) while he is whacking?!?

Can you imagine what must be going in his head: there he is, cockering his little friend, his little pride and joy, dreaming of some delicious chick and her nice big boobs, just him and his right hand working together, and he feels fiiiiiiiiiine, yeah, ….that`s it….he`s almost there…oh yes…there he goes…oooooooooooh….and his mother comes bursting in! He would…he would… he would die!!! Jesus! To get caught in that age by your mother while you are masturbating!

And if he is not doing it, he surely doesn`t do it because of her, for crying out loud! Because he never knows when the perverted sicko of his mother will crash in like SWAT! And what would she say if she would „catch“ him? You`ve been punked?!? Or: let mamma see if you`re doing it properly?!?

What a control freak. What in the world do you have to do with his little ding-dong? Of course he`s not normal, how can he be? When every time he feels that strange but pleasant arising, he remembers his mother. Thinking how she will enter in the room right at this moment. Cathing him in the middle of the performance. Give the kid some privacy!

What a world! And then you ask how the perverts are made. In this very way, dear respected woman/mother! When a healthy, delightful and above all joyful act becomes a traumatic experience caused by such a parent! Who wants to think of his mother when he`s doing it?!? What a freak!

I am sincerely hoping that I won`t meet her again so soon. Or her kid, when he grows up, when I think of it.