Peter and I Like Rainy Days, part 4 (Xara POV)
Peter and I Like Rainy Days, part 4
“Cheap, lying, no good, low-life, inbred, overstuffed, dog-kissing, dickless, spineless, stiff-legged, spotted-lipped piece of monkey shit that he is! Hallelujah Holy Shit Where’s the Tylenol?” Peter continued.
He then ran out of his room and screamed.
I laughed and rolled on the floor again. All of a sudden, I heard a chain saw and shit crashing in the background.
Peter walked in with a chain saw and an angry smile before he started running it. He then started slashing his dresser in half and then cut off a part of his bed post. “MOM I FIXED THE BEDPOST!!!!” he screamed.
I barely crawled out of his room and started laughing.
“Fuck it. Everyone wants to fuck with me, so I guess I’ll just tear shit apart,” Peter said through gritted teeth.
A squirrel then jumped at him from the window that he somehow left open.
Peter then screamed and jumped backward as he turned off the chainsaw. “Hold on. I need a different weapon,” Peter said as he ran over me to leave the room.
The squirrel then chattered angrily and followed the bastard while running me over.
I rolled on the floor and started laughing. Today has been hilarious as fuck.
“I have a hammer! I have a hammer, you son of a bitch!” Peter said as he laughed and chased the squirrel around with the hammer.
The squirrel ran away and then caused Peter to fall on his face. It laughed and then ran out the front door in the pouring rain.
I got up off the floor and laughed. Peter walked over to me and snarled at me. He had slits in his green eyes as he stared me down.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Peter growled at me and punched me in the face. “Take a look around, Xara. I’M IN THE THRESHOLD OF HELL!!!!” he screamed. He then walked away.
I fell on the ground and laughed again.
“PETER! I GOT MY WHEELCHAIR STUCK IN THE RUG!” Jamie yelled.
Peter jumped up and down and grunted. He was holding his breath and shaking. Steam was literally coming out of his ears. He was beating himself with a hammer. “HOW CAN IT GET ANY WORSE!? REALLY?!” Peter shouted loudly as he walked off in a huff with the hammer in hand. He was swearing profusely.
My phone was ringing, and I saw that Colonel America, my 70-year-old client who was 10 feet tall and dressed in a white pajama outfit, called me. “Hello?” I answered.
“My fucking goddamn recliner is a piece of fucking monkey shit and my fucking remote isn’t fucking working on my TV! Where the actual fuck are you?” Colonel America asked as he was beating his recliner with his Thor hammer in the background. I legitimately heard pounding in the background. Colonel America also held a Captain America Shield 99.2 percent of the time.
“I’m at Peter’s. I just got punched in the face because I trolled that curly-haired bastard too much. His parents gave me permission to torment him for throwing a lamp into their TV when Donald Trump was on the screen,” I said with a giggle.
Colonel America laughed hysterically as he beat the shit out of the recliner some more with his Thor hammer. “That’s hilarious. I’d like to throw this recliner through my fucking TV. I need your help and blessing to lift this goddamn thing and throw it through my TV. All of these things must die,” he said.
I giggled. “Well, I think that I need a break from the fucked-up Parkers. The young one is going on a rampage,” I said.
“Good. Hurry the fuck up,” Colonel America said before he hung up the phone.
I laughed hysterically and shook my head before I had another call coming in. It was Joebear, my normal bear husband. “Hello, baebae,” I said.
“BAEBAE! How are you?” Joebear asked.
I sighed. “Well, I’m in the threshold of hell. Peter is going on yet another rampage, and Colonel America wants to throw his recliner through his TV,” I said as I got the fuck toward my purse and things in the living room. I really did need to escape the Parker household before time as we know it would stop.
“Oh wow. That’s fucked up,” Joebear said.
“Yes, baebae. I need to fix the world. I’ll call you later,” I said.
“Okay, but real quick, I wanted to let you know that I got hungry and ate ice cream and crackers. I would have called sooner, but I was a hungry bear,” he said.
“Yes, baebae. Eat well. I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too, baebae,” Joebear said.
Joebear and I made a dolphin noise before we hung up.
I gathered my things and went to tell everyone goodbye and that I needed to help another family destroy the fabric of society. I loved to tell the Parkers that I was going to go on adventures in which I would do really outlandish things with my clients, such as throw recliners through TVs, fail miserably at finding whole golden kernel corn in a can while grocery shopping, and save my family members from the Veterans’ Administration. They tried to forget that I was bat shit crazy.
Peter then huffed and puffed as he walked in the living room. He looked like a drenched rat because he was in the rain yet again. It wasn’t like the time when he was out with Tug in the rain for a short period of time. He was out there for about fifteen minutes.
“Dude, you look like a drenched rat,” I said with a laugh.
Peter’s teeth were gritted as he held onto the arms of the recliner with a tight grip. He stared straight ahead before talking through gritted teeth. “My Dad never stops. It’s one big nightmare before Christmas after another. First, the pillow on the floor, then he got stuck in the rug and then he wanted to get the mail in the rain and then he locked himself out of the house…” He rubbed his temples and had a wide-eyed look on his face. He scowled.
Jamie also looked like a drenched rat as he wheeled into the house. To make matters worse, his wheels got caught on the blue rug… again. “Peter. I’m caught in the rug again. Please help me,” he said.
Peter stared at the wall with slits in his eyes. He couldn’t respond. His brain was literally about to explode. His mouth was a straight line on his face.
Godiva stopped sewing, put her supplies down, and went over to try to help her husband. She could tell that Peter was having a mental breakdown as he stared into the wall. He was literally burning a hole into the entertainment center near where the TV once worked.
She was struggling to get his wheels out of the rug. “How on Earth?” she asked as she tried to bend down.
I set my stuff down and tried to help Godiva get the rug free from the clutches of his wheels. Jamie was going back and forth and almost ran over my hand.
Godiva and I sighed.
“Jamie, just go forward slowly while I hold the rug,” Godiva said.
Jamie kept going too quickly, so the rug remained in his wheels. “Ugh. This damn chair!” Jamie yelled.
Peter jumped up out of the chair and screamed. “DAD! DAD! STOP IT! STOP IT! I’VE HAD THE DAY FROM HELL. NORMALLY I LIKE RAINY DAYS BUT TODAY I’M IN THE THRESHOLD OF HELL. DONALD TRUMP IS OUT TO DESTROY AMERICA AS WE KNOW IT! THE DAMN LAMP BREAKS. XARA HAS BEEN TORTURING ME NONFUCKINGSTOP ALL DAY! THEN YOU ALL SUPPORT HER DECISIONS TO DRIVE ME TO POINT OF COMPLETE INSANITY TO WHERE I JUST WANT TO USE A CHAINSAW TO EVERY ITEM IN THE HOUSE AND THEN A SQUIRREL ATTACKS ME THROUGH MY OPEN WINDOW. MY SHIT GOT RAINED ON, AND YOU KNOW WHAT?! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK! THAT’S RIGHT! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THIS SHIT!” Peter ranted as he picked up the rug and sent his dad flying forward to where he almost hit the wall. “BUT SOMEHOW EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE I GOT THE GODDAMN RUG FROM THE CLUTCHES OF MY FATHER’S ACCURSED WHEELS OF THE ACCURSED WHEELCHAIR! EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE DONALD TRUMP HASN’T BEEN IMPEACHED YET! AND EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE MY LIFE IS A LIVING HELLLLLLL ON EARTH! EVEN MY DOG HATES ME. HALLELUJAH HOLY FUCK WHERE THE FUCK’S THE ASPIRIN!?”
Peter then threw the rug out into the rain and grunted at it. Of course, the moment wouldn’t be complete without Peter yelling at the damn rug. “You can stay the fuck out there. Fuck you. Fuck Trump. Fuck the house. Fuck everybody! I’m completely done with all of this damn bullshit!” He closed the door and walked away to get an aspirin.
“Well, on that note, I’m going to my next client,” I said as I picked up my things. I wondered how Peter didn’t have laryngitis from all of the yelling he was doing today.
“I don’t blame you. Meanwhile, we’re going to try to calm the dragon that is our son,” Jamie said as he wheeled into his bedroom.
Godiva walked over to her chair and continued to sew. I wasn’t sure if she was finished with her scarf, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out. As much as I enjoyed tormenting Peter today, I figured that when he asks the whereabouts of pain pills in more than one day, it was time for me to vacate the premises.
“Cheap, lying, no good, low-life, inbred, overstuffed, dog-kissing, dickless, spineless, stiff-legged, spotted-lipped piece of monkey shit that he is! Hallelujah Holy Shit Where’s the Tylenol?” Peter continued.
He then ran out of his room and screamed.
I laughed and rolled on the floor again. All of a sudden, I heard a chain saw and shit crashing in the background.
Peter walked in with a chain saw and an angry smile before he started running it. He then started slashing his dresser in half and then cut off a part of his bed post. “MOM I FIXED THE BEDPOST!!!!” he screamed.
I barely crawled out of his room and started laughing.
“Fuck it. Everyone wants to fuck with me, so I guess I’ll just tear shit apart,” Peter said through gritted teeth.
A squirrel then jumped at him from the window that he somehow left open.
Peter then screamed and jumped backward as he turned off the chainsaw. “Hold on. I need a different weapon,” Peter said as he ran over me to leave the room.
The squirrel then chattered angrily and followed the bastard while running me over.
I rolled on the floor and started laughing. Today has been hilarious as fuck.
“I have a hammer! I have a hammer, you son of a bitch!” Peter said as he laughed and chased the squirrel around with the hammer.
The squirrel ran away and then caused Peter to fall on his face. It laughed and then ran out the front door in the pouring rain.
I got up off the floor and laughed. Peter walked over to me and snarled at me. He had slits in his green eyes as he stared me down.
“Are you okay?” I asked.
Peter growled at me and punched me in the face. “Take a look around, Xara. I’M IN THE THRESHOLD OF HELL!!!!” he screamed. He then walked away.
I fell on the ground and laughed again.
“PETER! I GOT MY WHEELCHAIR STUCK IN THE RUG!” Jamie yelled.
Peter jumped up and down and grunted. He was holding his breath and shaking. Steam was literally coming out of his ears. He was beating himself with a hammer. “HOW CAN IT GET ANY WORSE!? REALLY?!” Peter shouted loudly as he walked off in a huff with the hammer in hand. He was swearing profusely.
My phone was ringing, and I saw that Colonel America, my 70-year-old client who was 10 feet tall and dressed in a white pajama outfit, called me. “Hello?” I answered.
“My fucking goddamn recliner is a piece of fucking monkey shit and my fucking remote isn’t fucking working on my TV! Where the actual fuck are you?” Colonel America asked as he was beating his recliner with his Thor hammer in the background. I legitimately heard pounding in the background. Colonel America also held a Captain America Shield 99.2 percent of the time.
“I’m at Peter’s. I just got punched in the face because I trolled that curly-haired bastard too much. His parents gave me permission to torment him for throwing a lamp into their TV when Donald Trump was on the screen,” I said with a giggle.
Colonel America laughed hysterically as he beat the shit out of the recliner some more with his Thor hammer. “That’s hilarious. I’d like to throw this recliner through my fucking TV. I need your help and blessing to lift this goddamn thing and throw it through my TV. All of these things must die,” he said.
I giggled. “Well, I think that I need a break from the fucked-up Parkers. The young one is going on a rampage,” I said.
“Good. Hurry the fuck up,” Colonel America said before he hung up the phone.
I laughed hysterically and shook my head before I had another call coming in. It was Joebear, my normal bear husband. “Hello, baebae,” I said.
“BAEBAE! How are you?” Joebear asked.
I sighed. “Well, I’m in the threshold of hell. Peter is going on yet another rampage, and Colonel America wants to throw his recliner through his TV,” I said as I got the fuck toward my purse and things in the living room. I really did need to escape the Parker household before time as we know it would stop.
“Oh wow. That’s fucked up,” Joebear said.
“Yes, baebae. I need to fix the world. I’ll call you later,” I said.
“Okay, but real quick, I wanted to let you know that I got hungry and ate ice cream and crackers. I would have called sooner, but I was a hungry bear,” he said.
“Yes, baebae. Eat well. I love you,” I said.
“I love you, too, baebae,” Joebear said.
Joebear and I made a dolphin noise before we hung up.
I gathered my things and went to tell everyone goodbye and that I needed to help another family destroy the fabric of society. I loved to tell the Parkers that I was going to go on adventures in which I would do really outlandish things with my clients, such as throw recliners through TVs, fail miserably at finding whole golden kernel corn in a can while grocery shopping, and save my family members from the Veterans’ Administration. They tried to forget that I was bat shit crazy.
Peter then huffed and puffed as he walked in the living room. He looked like a drenched rat because he was in the rain yet again. It wasn’t like the time when he was out with Tug in the rain for a short period of time. He was out there for about fifteen minutes.
“Dude, you look like a drenched rat,” I said with a laugh.
Peter’s teeth were gritted as he held onto the arms of the recliner with a tight grip. He stared straight ahead before talking through gritted teeth. “My Dad never stops. It’s one big nightmare before Christmas after another. First, the pillow on the floor, then he got stuck in the rug and then he wanted to get the mail in the rain and then he locked himself out of the house…” He rubbed his temples and had a wide-eyed look on his face. He scowled.
Jamie also looked like a drenched rat as he wheeled into the house. To make matters worse, his wheels got caught on the blue rug… again. “Peter. I’m caught in the rug again. Please help me,” he said.
Peter stared at the wall with slits in his eyes. He couldn’t respond. His brain was literally about to explode. His mouth was a straight line on his face.
Godiva stopped sewing, put her supplies down, and went over to try to help her husband. She could tell that Peter was having a mental breakdown as he stared into the wall. He was literally burning a hole into the entertainment center near where the TV once worked.
She was struggling to get his wheels out of the rug. “How on Earth?” she asked as she tried to bend down.
I set my stuff down and tried to help Godiva get the rug free from the clutches of his wheels. Jamie was going back and forth and almost ran over my hand.
Godiva and I sighed.
“Jamie, just go forward slowly while I hold the rug,” Godiva said.
Jamie kept going too quickly, so the rug remained in his wheels. “Ugh. This damn chair!” Jamie yelled.
Peter jumped up out of the chair and screamed. “DAD! DAD! STOP IT! STOP IT! I’VE HAD THE DAY FROM HELL. NORMALLY I LIKE RAINY DAYS BUT TODAY I’M IN THE THRESHOLD OF HELL. DONALD TRUMP IS OUT TO DESTROY AMERICA AS WE KNOW IT! THE DAMN LAMP BREAKS. XARA HAS BEEN TORTURING ME NONFUCKINGSTOP ALL DAY! THEN YOU ALL SUPPORT HER DECISIONS TO DRIVE ME TO POINT OF COMPLETE INSANITY TO WHERE I JUST WANT TO USE A CHAINSAW TO EVERY ITEM IN THE HOUSE AND THEN A SQUIRREL ATTACKS ME THROUGH MY OPEN WINDOW. MY SHIT GOT RAINED ON, AND YOU KNOW WHAT?! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK! THAT’S RIGHT! I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT ANY OF THIS SHIT!” Peter ranted as he picked up the rug and sent his dad flying forward to where he almost hit the wall. “BUT SOMEHOW EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE I GOT THE GODDAMN RUG FROM THE CLUTCHES OF MY FATHER’S ACCURSED WHEELS OF THE ACCURSED WHEELCHAIR! EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE DONALD TRUMP HASN’T BEEN IMPEACHED YET! AND EVERYTHING’S OKAY BECAUSE MY LIFE IS A LIVING HELLLLLLL ON EARTH! EVEN MY DOG HATES ME. HALLELUJAH HOLY FUCK WHERE THE FUCK’S THE ASPIRIN!?”
Peter then threw the rug out into the rain and grunted at it. Of course, the moment wouldn’t be complete without Peter yelling at the damn rug. “You can stay the fuck out there. Fuck you. Fuck Trump. Fuck the house. Fuck everybody! I’m completely done with all of this damn bullshit!” He closed the door and walked away to get an aspirin.
“Well, on that note, I’m going to my next client,” I said as I picked up my things. I wondered how Peter didn’t have laryngitis from all of the yelling he was doing today.
“I don’t blame you. Meanwhile, we’re going to try to calm the dragon that is our son,” Jamie said as he wheeled into his bedroom.
Godiva walked over to her chair and continued to sew. I wasn’t sure if she was finished with her scarf, but I wasn’t about to stick around and find out. As much as I enjoyed tormenting Peter today, I figured that when he asks the whereabouts of pain pills in more than one day, it was time for me to vacate the premises.