FicWad

Strangely enough I woke up hangover-less, I've been expecting it since I consumed more alcohol last night then I consumed in my entire life. The only sensation I felt is a throbbing sensation between my legs which reminded me I lost my virginity to Geetard in the backseat of his car. Like mother like daughter. Of of all the people in the world I let Geetard fuck me first.
Maybe there's a curse on the females of this family to be on our backs for the Ways, my mother is Donald's slut, I'm Geetard's whore and when Mikey will want a ride I'll be there for him too, it a free pass for the Ways. Free membership.
But what's more weird is that I didn't feel sorry for it or ashamed or dirty, I felt a strange feeling of accomplishment, like I managed to pull off a revenge on my mom. She would've fainted is she saw me last night, drunk, smelling of booze, and being fucked by Geetard in his back seat! Or perhaps she would've been proud of me for following in her footsteps without breaking the tradition.
I managed to break every lesson she ever taught me, about guys and pride and self worth and drugs and alcohol, I'm pretty sure getting high and screwing some guy is against her values, but that's the thing I no longer cared about her values, she cheats on my dad, isn't there a value that is against deeds such as that?
But no matter how proud I was of myself about acting against what my mother preached, I snuck home yesterday instead of parading my new high self.
I rose in my bed and stretched my body, arching it back, smiling to myself slightly. Revenge can be sweet even if it stays your little dirty secret.

Just then the wooden door creaked a little and my mom's little face peeked cautiously around it, she smiled when she saw I was awake, "Good morning velvet"

I smiled back as wide as I could, "Morning mom"
It felt so empowering to know something she didn"t even guess.

She walked in with the cordless phone in her one hand, still wearing her pink big robe, "A phone call for you"

"Who is it," I outstretched my arm for the phone, running lists of people who might call, I didn't have a lot of friends, I know it's hard to believe but some people find me assaulting and not particularly pleasant, as I said before some just can't handle the truth and spend their lives whining about people who tells it to them.

She hung back a little sniffling the air, a frown taking over her face, "What's that smell?"

I smiled brightly, confusion all over my features, "What smell, mom?"

She wrinkled her nose a little and sniffled around.
Is it the smell of the pills, mom? Or maybe the bottle of vodka I hogged? Or perhaps the smell of the backseat where I lost my 'innocence' so to speak to your lover son? which one, mom? Is it the broken trust or the stumped pride?
She looked around the room to find the source of the smell but I was smarter then the average junkie even when completely hammered, my party clothes were already washed and dried in 4 in the morning, I didn't add washing powder so it wouldn't look suspicious, the clothes now lay wrinkled in a messy pile on the floor.

"Mom, the phone," I giggled.

"Oh right," she handed it to me, her frown slipping away.

"Who is it?," I covered the mouthpiece with my palm.

"Gerard," she beamed.

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, partly because she beamed so brightly like he's her other son and partly cause why the fuck would he call, "I'll finish the history project today," I barked.

"Um hi," he muttered on the other side.

"Hi, I'll finish the history project over the weekend so don't over worry your tiny brain," I barked again and furrowed my brow at mom, she was still standing there, staring at me, "It's the wrong Way mom"

"Huh?," her eyes rounded.

"It's for me," I motioned at the phone, laying back on my pillows.

"I know," she chuckled as though I'm stating the obvious.

"So could you?," I glanced meaningfully at the door.

She followed my gaze, "Oh of course"

I waited until the door was gently shut behind her before sighing with a smile on my face, "So for the 3rd time, I'll finish the project over the weekend"

"Will you stop with the motherfucking project already?," he laughed.

"Then what the fuck do you want?," I laughed too.

"Just checking up on you," I could picture him shrug.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Why yes?"

"Cause"

"Cause why?," I insisted, biting my lips.

He sighed greatly, "You were pretty out of it yesterday"

"So"

"So," he paused a little, "I just wanted to make sure you don't blab anything to anybody"

"Oh don't worry, it's not something I'm particularly proud of," I smirked, I wasn't sure what he meant, our parents or our little adventure last night but it didn't matter cause my lack of pride applied to both incidents.

He huffed, "Me neither bitch queen"

"Wuss boy"

"Then finish the fucking project," he said angrily and beeps of a vacant line echoed in my ear. His motherfucking mood swings, I'll bet my life he's PMSing.
I clutched the phone and got up, going down the stairs a painful scene unfolded before my eyes, mom was making the Saturday pancakes while my dad's arms were wrapped around her waist, he was whispering something to her, making her smile with every word.
I stood on my spot, watching, taking in every little piece of detail around the scene, absorbing it like it was my air, the sun rays falling on their hair, painting it with golden colors, the giggles, the smell of the pancakes and the swift motion of her tiny wrist when she flipped them, the little laughter wrinkles around his eyes that deepened everytime she was around...It can't be right, we must've gotten it all wrong, is my mother the same women who snuck to that filthy hotel now looks so happy with my dad?
How can she switch so quickly, create such different illusions, it must be some kind of a mistake, but which vision is the mistake? The motel one or this happy morning one?

"Daddy!," I shrieked, hugging him from behind in attempt to pull him away from the liar.

"My baby," he dropped his hands and put an arm around me, "How was the party?"

"OK," I lowered my eyes.

"Any plans for today?".

I shook my head.

"What do you say we'll watch a movie, just you and me and mom?"

"Which movie?," I asked already knowing the answer.
Every Saturday morning we watched rocky horror picture show, at first my mom was against my dad showing a six years old movies such as this and at some point it was banned because I told my 3rd grade art teacher she looks like a sweet transvestite from transsexual Pennsylvania but she unbanned it when she caught me, my brother and dad doing the time warp song.